


Firebug: Book II - Chiân Maeroris and the Monster of Slytherin

by BoogleBoot



Series: The Firebug Books [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acromantulas, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Basilisks, Beauxbatons, Boarding School, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms Class (Harry Potter), Complete, Dark Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Harry Potter), Disillusionment Charm (Harry Potter), Drama, Durmstrang, Established Relationship, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Friendship, Gen, Giant Spiders, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor, Gryffindor Harry Potter, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gubraithian Fire, Healers, Herbology, Herbology Class (Harry Potter), Hogwarts, Hogwarts Castle, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts Grounds, Hogwarts Kitchens, Hogwarts Second Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, House Elves, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Lesbian Character, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Male-Female Friendship, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Minor Original Character(s), Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Muggle London, Muggle Technology, Muggle-born, Muggle-born Pride, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Muggles, Mystery, N.E.W.T.s | Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, No Smut, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Original Magic, Parselmouths, Parseltongue, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Potions, Potions Class (Harry Potter), Protective Slytherins, Psychomancy, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Purebloods (Harry Potter), Rating: PG13, Representation, Rubeus House and Gardens, Salazar Slytherin - Freeform, School, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin House, Slytherins, St Mungo's Hospital, Strong Female Characters, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter), Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Triwizard Tournament, Veela, Witches, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Wizards, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000, firebug, life at hogwarts, quidditch pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 97,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoogleBoot/pseuds/BoogleBoot
Summary: The Firebug books are an original set of post-canonical stories set an indeterminate but significant time after the Harry Potter books. Chiân Maeroris (Firebug) is an original character. Book II - the Monster of Slytherin details the story of her second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.This story is a tribute to the world and magic of Harry Potter. It builds upon the universe created by J. K. Rowling but uses only original characters. References to the Harry Potter books appear explicitly but are also implicit in the world-building taken as precedent for the setting of this story.
Series: The Firebug Books [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815601
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	1. Old School

**Author's Note:**

> I have edited this to the best of my ability, but please do notify me if you find any spelling or formatting errors - or worse, any inconsistencies in plot or naming.
> 
> For any other inquiries - business or unrelated - please contact my agent at kristin.r.briggs@gmail.com
> 
> I have also recorded each chapter and compiled them into a complete audiobook on soundcloud. That playlist can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The first Firebug book can be found here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24570409/chapters/59338729

Chiân was not having a particularly fun summer. It was lonely and it was dull, stuck at home on her own for days and days at a time. For the first week of the holidays she could tell how much effort her parents were putting in, trying to capture the comfort and delight of the week in March when she had flown home on the back of a thestral with no warning.

They both had full time jobs, though. Chiân’s dad worked for the local council, and Chiân’s mother was a very capable secretary at a business in central London. The commute for her mother meant that she was up and out of the house by half past six every morning, and back in the evenings at seven o’clock. Her dad was around a little more, but Chiân still found herself waking every morning to an empty house.

After a year of waking up to Vessy and Lydia’s voices and complaints Chiân found the silence overwhelming. And it was not only an auditory silence. After their collective realisation on the Hogwarts Express the previous month, Chiân’s friends had agreed that somebody should write to their headmaster to explain that they had possibly accidentally released a basilisk into the school.

Pretoria and Sam had volunteered to do this, and had assured them that they’d let them know as soon as they’d heard that the creature had been found and dealt with. Chiân had not heard anything yet – not even a letter saying that it was going badly, as she thought it must be. She had run out all the disaster scenarios in her head, eventually sickening with a kind of longing for the castle, whether infested with giant snakes or not.

She awoke each morning in the bedroom she had thought until very recently she had shared with her largely absent brother. The narrow bedroom window overlooking the cramped back yard did not catch much sunlight throughout the course of a day, and mornings were a particular kind of gloom.

She missed her friends. She deeply missed the common room, with its firepits and thick rugs over the black marble floor. She missed the quiet heights of the library, the smoky noise of potions class, with Professor Schnittke leaning against the table across from them, laughing with them about something Asher had said.

Asher was the only thing keeping her sane as the weeks ticked by. He had given her his phone number before they had alighted the Hogwarts Express nearly a month ago. They had been snapchatting pretty much every day. It turned out that he lived on the other side of London, near Earl’s Court.

Chiân’s old school friends from what felt like another life had been texting her as well, trying to get her to meet up with them and hang out. She hadn’t been able to come up with enough excuses not to and in the end she just stopped replying. There was something so unsettling about trying to imagine herself hanging out with Maddie and the rest of her friends from primary school. She didn’t belong to their world anymore and she felt like her head might explode if she had to pretend she did.

She had mentioned to Asher that some of her old friends were planning to meet up in Trafalgar Square that weekend. She was feeling guilty for ignoring Maddie’s increasingly upset texts about how much she missed her. Lying on the sofa on a bland Thursday morning, alone once more in the house, she was enjoying being able to use her phone again. It was one of the only things she had truly missed during her first year at Hogwarts. She had her earphones in and was listening to all her old favourite albums, absent-mindedly scrolling through twitter if Asher took more than a minute to reply. She opened a snap from him.

He was just out of frame, the picture instead mostly taken up with his baby sister Meghan, who looked like she was laughing. The caption he had written said “you should go tbh”.

She scowled, taking yet another snap of the living room wall, ready to respond with “and you should fuck off”, when he messaged again.

It was another photo of Meghan, still giggling, head turned and blurry. She was very cute. This one said “I can come with if you like? Could be fun”

Chiân thought about this for a moment. The thought of mooching into central London by herself and hanging out with a bunch of people she no longer had anything in common with had been excruciating. With Asher there, though, it suddenly seemed like it might be extremely funny.

She realised she was grinning. She picked up her phone from her chest so that she could reply and found yet another photo of Meghan, this time reading “u could just stay at ours after?”

They had been complaining at each other for weeks now about how bored they were, and for the first time Chiân felt energised. It would be a welcome reprieve from the loneliness to see Asher. Vessy had made noises about inviting all the Slytherins from their year to come stay at what Chiân was sure would be her disgustingly huge country manor of a house, but she had not heard anything from her yet.

Chiân worked on some of her homework, though she had really finished all of her summer essays already and was just being picky now. Finally at quarter to six she heard her dad’s key in the front door. He cooked some pasta while they waited for Chiân’s mum to get back. He thought it was a great idea for her to go to Asher’s.

“Honestly Chiâny, I’ve been dead impressed that you haven’t complained more about being left alone every day.”

Chiân was sat on the adjacent countertop in the kitchen, already texting Asher to let him know it was a yes from her dad. She shrugged. “I mean, it’s not your fault. Didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“You’re a good kid,” her dad said, smiling.

Chiân was constantly aware of Tian’s absence these days. Her parents had barely mentioned it since she had got back for the holidays, but being in this house again was enough of a reminder. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t been able to see that he had never lived here. There was no bed for him, there was no sign of him in the wardrobe in her – she was working hard not to think of it as ‘their’ – bedroom. Every time she brushed her teeth she would stand in the bathroom and stare at her mother and father’s toothbrushes, ostentatiously alone in the cup.

Chiân knew she should probably talk about some of the heaviness she was carrying around, but she resolutely refused. Her mother had treated her with the same hesitant, light kindness as she had in that one week in March. Chiân was not about to disturb the peace by bringing up Tian with her. The word ‘monster’ was lodged deeply enough in her mind that she didn’t need it reinforced – not now that she knew that she really was a monster.

Her dad had told her that her mother was still in regular counselling and had been for a good number of years. Chiân’s mum had never told her this herself, but Chiân had not needed her dad to explain that the reason was Tian’s death and the blame she had held against her daughter for years.

So Chiân had been trying to live and let live, keeping her hands inside the ride at all time, doing her homework during the empty, empty days, making sure all her spellbooks and parchment was safely back in her case and pushed under her bed before her mum got back from work. Not that she ever came up to Chiân’s room.

Chiân was aware that there was nothing she could ever do or say, no amount of good behaviour or grand gestures that could make her mother forgive her, whatever anyone wanted to say about blame or responsibility. Still though she tried to please her mum – to be a presence for good in the six weeks a year she would be in the house. Part of this had been trying to make sure that she was around to spend time with her mum whenever she had the energy or time in her working week, and this was primarily on weekends.

Chiân had girded herself for a look of disappointment when her mum got home that evening, collapsing onto the sofa, gratefully accepting the bowl of pasta that was waiting for her. Her mum, however, had acquiesced immediately, saying that it sounded like fun and asking Chiân how long she was going to stay at Asher’s.

Chiân couldn’t quite believe it. She was still very uncertain when mentioning anything to do with school or the world of magic in front of her mum, but here she was encouraging her to go spend time with one of her friends from Hogwarts. She gave her mum a grateful hug and she had smiled at Chiân, looking tired, looking like she was trying.

Two days later Chiân rose early on Saturday morning feeling brighter than she had since the holidays began. Her mum was in her dressing gown in the kitchen, her dad watching telly in the living room as she careened downstairs, already dressed.

“You’re up early,” her dad chuckled at her. “Do you want me to give you a lift to the station?”

She was wobbling as she pulled on her boots. They were the ones Vessy had given her, with the fold-out skates. “Uh, would that be okay? I was going to cycle, but…”

“Yeah, sure, let me get my coffee.”

Chiân’s school satchel had once more been emptied of all its pencil shavings and gum wrappers to make way for pyjamas and a change of clothes, her phone charger, toothbrush, and wallet.

Her parents knew the plan: she was going to be in London for most of the day, meeting up with Asher and her old school friends before heading back to Asher’s house until Monday, when she would make the lengthy tube journey back. Her mum called out to remind her to text when she got safely to Asher’s house.

Chiân waved vaguely that she would as she followed her dad out the door.

The day was brightening up a little, though retained that old smog-like sense of pervasive greyness that came with London. Chiân was thinking about the last time her dad had dropped her off at this tube station. It had been the morning of her first day at Hogwarts. She remembered the uncomfortable night of broken sleep she had taken on this exact seat almost a year ago. She got out of the car and said goodbye to her dad. She looked at him and felt a strange pang of something like pride. He smiled at her, and wished her a fun weekend.

Chiân chose an album called _True Loves_ by Hooray For Earth, timing the first track to end as the tube train pulled in in front of her. She held her phone in her hoodie pocket as she sat on the train, leg jiggling up and down uncontrollably. Her boots were thick and sturdy. Chiân liked these boots, wearing them as much for how they looked as the magically concealed wheels they contained. Her favourite thing about them, though, was how they made her feel. The memories of careening down the uneven stone corridors of Hogwarts school in them, Vessy and Lydia at her side, made her grin.

She had texted Maddie to tell her that she was coming to hang out with them all, and Maddie had seemed so pleased that it made her feel a little bad for ignoring her. She had told her that she was bringing a friend from her school and it only now occurred to Chiân that they might have to answer a lot of questions from her old muggle friends. It would be a lot harder not to look like they were lying if she and Asher didn’t corroborate their stories beforehand. She seemed to remember something in their welcome packs at Hogwarts – a leaflet of some kind, detailing a suitable cover story for those who would have to conceal their magical education to close friends or family members. She also remembered throwing it away unread.

She texted Asher, hoping he was also on his way. He responded immediately, saying that the same thought had occurred to him as well. She spent the rest of the tube journey exchanging ideas with him on snapchat, over pictures of various tube train floors. The trains got increasingly full as ten o’clock and central London both approached in their ways.

She lost signal however as her train sped under the city. The lights of the tube trains were ruthlessly bleak, and the air thick and unpleasant. Chiân pulled her jumper up over her nose slightly, turning her music up damagingly loud over the churning industrial noise of the trains.

She squinted up over the heads of several loudly chatting Indian ladies to see if she was nearing Charing Cross Station. She was standing now, hand gripping the pole as she hovered by the doors. She was so excited to see another friendly face – especially from the wizarding world – that she thought about getting off a stop early and just running the whole way there. She thought ruefully of apparating with her dad and wished she could learn that five years sooner.

Chiân realised in that moment that she had not packed her wand. She did not think she would have cause to use it, but the realisation that it had not even occurred to her to bring it along made her feel unfathomably upset. It was like the whole past year was slipping away from her. Since coming home she had lost several pounds, no longer feasting regularly on the extravagant provision of the house elves, instead not bothering with lunch, and often breakfast, drinking squash and waiting for her parents to come home.

She wondered if a similar shedding of magical identity was happening. She did not like the thought at all.

She jumped off the train at Charing Cross and as soon as she started to ascend to the surface her phone pinged.

“Where you at?” said a snap from Asher, a wonky picture of the ticket barriers showing that he was emerging from the tube as well.

Chiân guessed she was a few minutes behind him, but began scanning the crowds around her. She tapped her phone on the barriers and edged through. She also had a text from Maddie and another friend called Shanon, both telling her that they were by one of the lions in the square.

She spotted Asher first. He was leaning against a railing, looking down at his phone. Chiân couldn’t supress the wide grin on her face as she crept up to him, leaping in to punch him in the shoulder in greeting.

He laughed and leapt back at her. She ducked out of the way, shouting her hello a little more loudly than she needed to.

The worry and loneliness of the past few weeks lessened as they crossed the road together, quickly confirming some of the details of their supposed year at some remote boarding school. Chiân walked close to him, her satchel slung across her back, hands in her pockets. She could already see the four or five kids sat alongside one of the large stone plinths, in the shadow of a lion.

“Is that them?” Asher said, nodding at them.

“Yep.”

“You told them I was coming, right?” Asher asked. He didn’t sound nervous. Rather his voice held the same kind of barely-supressed amusement she was feeling at the bizarre situation. It was like walking into another world.

Someone had spotted her. It was Tom. He and Maddie waved at her, Maddie jumping down and walking out to them. Chiân greeted her with a hug, introducing her to Asher.

“Oh, you go to the weirdo school as well?” Maddie asked him as they joined the others. Chiân waved to them all, feeling more fondness for them than she had anticipated.

“What makes you say it’s weird?” said Asher, eyebrows raised.

A girl called Georgie snorted, tossing her braided black hair. “I mean, they don’t let you take phones? And you can’t use the internet. The fuck kind of dark ages bullshit is that.”

Asher looked at her solemnly. “It’s worth it for the trade off.”

“What’s the trade off?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just, y’know, flying lessons.” His grin was Machiavellian.

“What – you get to like, fly planes and stuff?” Maddie was looking from Asher to Chiân, eyes bugging.

“Just how posh is this school,” Chiân heard one of the other guys say to Tom.

Asher looked positively pompous as he replied. “No, not planes – we use magical broomsticks.”

There was a beat of silence, then all of them laughed.

The others liked Asher. Chiân could tell. It was weird how little they had changed in a year, though that may have been in contrast to herself. They sat around in Trafalgar square a little longer, joined by some other friends from various secondary schools, several of whom Chiân did not know. She sat next to Asher in front of the lion, listening to them all chat and moan about teachers and lessons, describing in detail who was going out with who, and which friendships had become sworn rivalries since last summer.

Chiân supposed she should have expected that she and Asher needn’t have worried so much about cover-stories. The group was full of young, barely teenage school kids who were mostly hell-bent on being heard and devoid of any interest in listening. The only tricky one to navigate had been Maddie, who reiterated again that she really had missed Chiân, and chatted to her and Asher much more attentively throughout the morning. It made Chiân remember why Maddie had been her best friend, and she felt twinge of sadness for the girl she’d left behind.

They all went to lunch in a McDonalds, Chiân mostly sticking with Maddie and Asher. Asher was very good at answering questions about life at Hogwarts without sounding strange or hesitant. Maddie’s interest in Chiân’s strange, fussy, old-fashioned boarding school was genuine, rather than the fast-fading novelty she had been for the others.

In fact, after their stop in McDonalds Chiân had suggested that the three of them break off for a little while.

“I mean, unless you want to…” she gestured vaguely at the backs of the other kids, who were making noises about taking the tube to a skate park.

Maddie shook her head. “No, honestly, I’d rather hang out with you guys, if that’s okay? I don’t want to intrude,” she looked at both of them with a slightly sly smile, which Asher missed.

Chiân gave her the middle finger when Asher wasn’t looking. The three of them ducked into a large bookshop, shaking off the others. Maddie remarked that none of them would miss her, and agreed when Chiân said quite truthfully that she was also unlikely to miss any of them.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t really hang out with any of them much anymore,” Maddie told them. “That’s why I was so desperate for you to come today as well and oh my God am I glad you did.”

Chiân grinned. They walked through the shelves of books. The shop had several floors, and Asher had already absently wandered up to the Fantasy section, leaving the girls to chat in the YA corner.

The number of books and the quiet murmuring of the higher levels reminded Chiân of the Hogwarts library. Maybe it was partially this which made her feel as happy as she could remember being all summer.

“So, you and Asher…” said Maddie in a whisper as they caught sight of him again.

Chiân rolled her eyes. “I _knew_ you were going to ask,” she said.

Maddie waggled her eyebrows. “Well? You clearly like him.”

Chiân scoffed. “I do not! No, seriously. We’re just good friends,” Chiân elbowed her.

“Sure,” said Maddie in an infuriating smirk. “Cool, well, when you guys make it official let me know, yeah? He seems like a cool guy.”

They looked at him for a moment. He was buried in a large book, a slight frown of concentration on his face. It was a look Chiân recognised from their library study sessions, or during a particularly tricky potions lesson.

“He’s a nerd,” she said fondly. “But yeah, he’s pretty great.” She could feel Maddie grinning at her. “Oh, shut up. Come on, let’s go up to the café,” she pointed at a sign which indicated the café on the top floor.

They told Asher they were headed up and after about half an hour he joined them. The three of them spent a very enjoyable afternoon lounging around in some of the cosier sofa chairs in the café, reading books and graphic novels they had found from the shelves, occasionally stopping to chat or laugh about something.

Maddie left them briefly to go buy the book she was forty pages into, having decided she was enjoying it enough to spend the money.

Chiân watched her go, thinking.

“The way Muggles imagine magic is so weird,” Asher said suddenly. He was still gazing down at the thick fantasy novel he was reading. “I mean, I’ve always thought that, but it feels even stranger after being at Hogwarts for a year.” He looked up when Chiân didn’t respond. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, still looking out to where Maddie had gone back downstairs to find a till. “Yeah, sorry. Just… it feels weirder than I thought it would.”

“What, being out in the muggle world?”

“A little bit, yeah, but I meant lying to Maddie.”

“I don’t get why you’re a Slytherin, you know,” he said, and she looked at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?” They had joked about this before, but his tone was not a joking one right now.

“Well,” he put his book down. “You’re like, well, y’know… you’re _good._ ”

Chiân snorted. “You cannot have just spent a year hanging out with Pretoria and Sam and think that all Slytherins are evil stuck up bastards-“

“No, that’s not what I mean. Obviously not every Slytherin is a super dark wizard who splits his soul in half and kills thousands of people,” Asher waved his hand dismissively. “I mean… well, my mum always says that the sorting is more about putting you in with people who share the same values as you, not necessarily the same qualities. And like, Slytherin is where you go if you value ambition, or something. But you – I dunno, maybe I’m wrong – but you don’t seem like ambition is your main priority.”

He watched her as she mulled this over. “I’ve not thought of it that way before,” she said. “D’you remember what the hat said though, in its speech-thing at our sorting?”

“Uh, not really?”

Chiân sat up and recited the words which had come back to her time and time again in the past year:

_“Those who strive in ceaseless toil_

_Towards better selves from troubled soil,_

_In Slytherin may find their home,_

_A place of rest from which to roam.”_

Asher grunted. “What does that even mean?”

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Chiân responded. “And I think that ambition isn’t just about getting what you want. I think it’s also about getting what you need, whether you know you need it or not.”

Asher stared at her, but Chiân did not explain herself. She was thinking about her brother, and about the few places or people in the world who felt like home. She had not done very well at being a daughter, she reckoned. Murdering your own brother by accident is not much of a way to be part of happy family. Hogwarts felt like firmer ground than anything she had known before. She had often thought of the hat’s words about ‘troubled soil’ and pictured her mother screaming at her and Tian. Now those memories were torn into the fragments of the self-deceit she had blown wide open.

It had felt, in the end, like the hat’s words had been for her specifically. She knew how Asher, not to mention most of the rest of Hogwarts, thought of the ambition of the Slytherins, but in some quiet, private part of her mind Chiân wondered if ambition couldn’t also be a desire for healing – a striving to unbecome yourself – especially when you were a monster and a murderer by the age of four.

Maddie came back only a second later, looking pleased. Her book had been on offer, so she had bought the second one as well. She settled back down into her seat, and gave Chiân such a cheerful smile that Chiân decided there and then that she would make sure she wrote to Maddie during her next year at Hogwarts.

The three of them lapsed back into happy silence, though Asher did not return immediately to his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-one-old-school-audio?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	2. MISSION

“We’re home!” called Asher. Chiân followed him over the threshold into the house, looking around keenly.

A little girl, about five or six, came running up to Asher. Chiân recognised her from Asher’s snapchats as his little sister Meghan. A voice called up a greeting from further into the house. The whole place gave a feeling of busy, comfortable background life. She had thought that Asher was from a wizarding family but she could not immediately see any signs of magic.

Asher was introducing her to Meghan, who was looking at her with bold fascination from Asher’s arms. She waved at the child, grinning.

“You are getting too big for this, missy,” said Asher, readjusting his sister as he carried her through to the kitchen. Chiân followed.

The house was light and airy, with wide windows along the back wall of the kitchen. Each hallway was adorned with tastefully abstract art. It was much larger than Chiân’s house, but not in an intimidating way.

“Hey there, you must be Chiân,” a woman said to her, wiping her hands on a cloth and moving around the kitchen island to greet her.

“And you must be Mrs Shackrel,” said Chiân, smiling at the woman.

She chuckled. “Please, call me Debs.” She had Asher’s same olive-brown skin and toothy smile.

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you. Um, thanks for having me,” said Chiân, copying Asher and sliding into a seat at the kitchen island.

“Not at all, not at all. You’re always welcome here, dear. Any time.” She returned to her cooking, asking them about how their day out in London had been.

Asher answered lazily, splitting his attention between his mother and his little sister, who was running in and out of the kitchen to find toys to show her brother.

“Mum, when’s dinner?” a younger boy had appeared in the doorway.

“About ten minutes. Can you go let May and her friends know?”

The boy was looking at Chiân, an embarrassed sort of reticence halting him in the doorway.

“Hi,” she said, amused.

He grunted and disappeared back up the stairs.

“That’s Lucas,” said Asher, rolling his eyes.

“He’s entering that teenage phase, I’m afraid. Doesn’t surface from his bedroom unless there’s a promise of food,” said Debs, rolling her eyes.

“How old is he?” asked Chiân, who was feeling some pangs of envy at the size of Asher’s family. She had known he had several siblings, but seeing them all was a sharp reminder of the loneliness of her family home – not to mention the fact that it was her own fault she no longer had a brother.

“Ten this September,” said Debs.

“Who does May have around?” said Asher to his mother.

“Um, Helga and Frankie, I believe. They’re joining us for dinner,” she added, checking on the bubbling casserole dish in the oven.

Debs enlisted Asher and Chiân to set the table for nine in total. Chiân was startled when a voice from the doorway said:

“Oh hey, it’s Firebug!”

She looked up into a face she thought she recognised. The girl smiled at Chiân, her two friends following her into the kitchen and sitting down.

“May, Chiân. Chiân, May,” Asher waved vaguely at them.

“You’re at Hogwarts,” said Chiân with surprise, looking at the three girls.

“Yes! We know who you are,” said a girl with very frizzy ginger hair. “I’m Frankie, by the way.”

“Helga,” said the other, sitting down on May’s other side.

“You’re not Gryffindors, though,” said Chiân.

“Hufflepuff,” they chorused.

“About to start fifth year,” Asher added.

“And you’re a Slytherin, right?” Helga said eagerly. They were all looking at Chiân in a way which suggested she had been a topic of dinnertime discussion before.

“Yeah. Hey is it normal for siblings to be in different houses?” she asked as the rest of Asher’s family appeared, his dad greeting Debs and talking quietly with her about something.

“It’s not _not_ normal,” shrugged Asher. “It can go either way.”

Chiân found this interesting, but was arrested from asking more questions as Mr Shackrel came to the table. He shook her hand and told her to call him Graham.

The formality of a family sit-down dinner was lost in the mêlée of chatter. Meghan had decided that Chiân was a worthy candidate for friendship and lost no time in telling her all about what she would be learning in her next year of school, proudly demonstrating just how many times tables she knew.

Chiân nodded and made all the right noises of impressed amazement, mostly listening to Asher’s parents talk about a situation at Graham’s work. She leant in to Asher to ask him what his dad’s job was, and looked confused when he said “GP”.

“I thought your parents were, uh, magical?” she asked him quietly.

He shrugged. “They are. They just like working muggle jobs, I guess. Mum’s a TA at Meghan and Lucas’s school.”

Evidently Asher’s parents had heard this exchange, because Debs interjected. “Have you heard of MISSION?” she asked Chiân, who shook her head.

May started to answer helpfully. “Stands for, er, Muggle Initiative to-“

Asher interrupted her: “seduce, suffer and ignore all numpties – ‘all’ with an ‘o’”. His mother glared at both of her laughing sons.

“MISSION is the Muggle Integration, Support, and Service Initiative Of Naughtocrats,” said Graham. “It was started after the second war – designed to help bridge the gap between the magical and non-magical world, you see. There’s an age-old prejudice amongst wizards that those of us with magical blood are somehow of greater importance and power than those without. MISSION has worked for decades to try to undo some of the systematic oppression laid down by that prejudice.”

Chiân nodded with genuine interest, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “How hard did they have to work for that acronym?” she said.

Graham chuckled. “We are fond of our acronyms,” he said.

“So you guys are like, in the MISSION thing?” she said, looking at Asher’s parents.

“Oh yes, lifelong members!” said Debs proudly. She nodded to a frame on the wall across the room. “That’s the crest there, you see. The name is only visible to magic persons though, because one of the whole points of MISSION’s work is to bring the benefits of magical healing and innovation and such things to the muggle world but without compromising the secrecy and safety of the magical one.”

It was a colourful, abstract image that bore an aesthetic resemblance to old wartime recruitment posters. It showed two hands clasping, and beneath them the glowing word “MISSION”.

Chiân frowned slightly as she looked at it. “How exactly are you supposed to do that?” She had a picture in her head of Asher’s dad kneeling by some unknown Muggle with a broken leg, and pointing dramatically into the distance to distract them so that he could pull out his wand and mend their fracture. It seemed ridiculous.

“Well, a good place to start is doing what Debs and I do,” continued Graham. “A lot of people in MISSION work Muggle jobs so that we can get to know a lot of non-magic people. Means you’re well placed to help out if there’s a crisis.”

“That makes sense,” Chiân was still frowning. “But like, how do you help? Surely you can’t just, like if you saw a patient and they were really ill, would you just like, heal them?”

He shook his head. “No, no. Well, I suppose in some drastic cases I might, but there’s quite a philosophy behind it. Even putting ourselves in the path of people who might be struggling socially, or with ill health or something, and assuming that we can improve their situations with magic is still to impose ourselves on the basis that we have some kind of power that they don’t.”

“But you do,” said Chiân blankly.

“Ah, see, that’s just the thing,” said Debs. Asher caught Chiân’s eye and gave an amused grin at his mother’s excitement. Chiân was too intrigued to respond. “There is an important difference between recognising that you have different knowledge and abilities to someone else, and claiming that those abilities make you more powerful.”

The other kids, clearly having heard their parents expound on this at countless dinners, were now chatting about something else. Chiân shifted around in her chair as Debs came to lean against the kitchen island behind her.

“But like, I don’t mean to be, um, rude about Muggles or whatever,” she said to both parents, “but like, it’s not wrong to say that having magic abilities makes you more powerful – like, not ‘better’ – I get that, but-“

Graham was shaking his head again and Chiân broke off.

“No, you see, that’s the heart of the issue. That we think the magic belongs to _us_. That we think the abilities are ours, and that therefore we have somehow been entitled since birth to this great allotment of magical power.”

Debs continued. “It’s more helpful to think of it as being born into a lottery, and some of us happen to fall into the magical world, and some of us don’t. What right do we have then to claim that it’s an ancestral superiority? None at all,” she beamed at Chiân.

They both watched her as she mulled this over. “I guess… that makes sense a little bit, because some people are muggle-borns, aren’t they? So it’s not even like it’s just a blood thing.”

Debs looked delighted. “Exactly!”

Asher chimed in. Chiân had not realised he was still listening. “And some people in wizarding families are born without magic, aren’t they mum? So it goes both ways.”

“Hit the nail on the head there, Ash,” said Graham, nodding to him. “And really that’s one of the things that eats away right at the heart of this whole myth of ‘pure-blood’ status and the like. Magic is hereditary, sure, but it is not absolute by any means. It seems to go where it likes, really. Look at us,” he gestured at himself and Debs, and they shared a slightly soppy look.

“What do you mean?” said Chiân.

“We’re both Muggle-borns,” Debs explained. “We met at Hogwarts, and got involved in MISSION in our sixth year there.”

“It was the most bizarre thing, coming at it all from a muggle perspective,” Graham was reminiscing, looking out the window. “The selfishness of it all is so blatant, but so many witches and wizards – nearly all of our peers back in the day – just took it for granted that magic should be kept a secret from the non-magic world.”

“It was like we had been asked to switch sides,” said Debs seriously. “Like we’d been invited into this secret world but the cost was that we had to leave the other world behind. Which is ridiculous – Lucas, please put your dishes _in_ the dishwasher, not _next to it_ ,” she said quickly as her youngest son slouched out of the kitchen.

Chiân asked again what it stood for, then said “what is a ‘naughtocrat’?”

“Opposite of an autocrat,” Graham had finished eating too and stretched back in his chair, and laughed at his own unhelpful explanation. “The word means someone who is actively rejecting a position of power that is open to them. In practice, it’s the name of any witch or wizard who has chosen to forgo their magic.”

“You don’t use magic?” Chiân sat up a little straighter. She’d kind of been on board with the noble humanitarian philosophy behind the whole MISSION thing, but this seemed absurd.

“Well, we do,” said Graham slowly. “But sparingly.” He noticed her look of bewilderment. “There’s nothing wrong with magic – that’s a long way off what we are saying-“

“A lot of people think the MISSION is like this massive betrayal and that everyone in it wants to stop using magic at all,” said Asher, sounding derisive.

“Yes, which is completely the wrong end of the stick. The magical world is a proud, proud place, Chiân. Witches and Wizards have been so enormously reliant on magic for thousands of years that in recent years we’ve almost been in danger of falling behind the curve.”

This made no sense at all. “What do you mean?” Chiân realised how far forward in her seat she was and tried to appear a little less intensely baffled by everything she was hearing.

“Did you know that Muggles have been to the moon?” said Graham, and there was a shine in his eyes that was somewhere between admiration and pride. “They’ve sent robots to other planets, they’ve invented huge machines that carry people across oceans. They make movies and tv shows and music so that they can tell stories to each other in astonishing, entertaining detail. Now we can replicate much of that one way or another with magic, but that’s what we are doing – imitating. Imagine a world where magic can contribute and complement the natural flair of the human spirit. Imagine what could be achieved?”

Chiân was impressed with this speech. “Wow,” she said, looking out the window at the Shackrel family’s modest back garden. She could see a squirrel trying repeatedly to climb the birdfeeder, sliding back down to the bottom each time.

“Tell her the thing about the toilets, dad,” said Asher keenly.

Graham chuckled. “You tell it. I’m sure you know it by now,” he waved Asher’s protests away.

“It’s my favourite,” said Asher, turning to Chiân with laughter in his face. “Did you know they didn’t even have bathrooms and toilets and stuff at Hogwarts until like the 1700s?”

“Ew, what?”

“Yeah! Magical people didn’t even use, like, a hole in the ground or something – they used to just _go_ and then vanish it with magic,” Asher nodded at Chiân’s look of disgust. “Right? It’s gross. And then like, someone had the bright idea to put toilets and showers and stuff in the castle, which is like way after Muggles started using them.”

“That is –“ Chiân was screwing up her nose. “Is that true?” She looked around at Debs and Graham.

“Absolutely true, yes,” said Graham, grinning at her expression of horror. “And that’s exactly our point. Magic is mysterious and powerful and wonderful, but if you rely upon it for every need and impulse then you end up ignoring some much more elegant solutions to basic human functions.”

“It’s a good example,” added Debs, who was clearing the table in the wake of all her other children, who had now left. “And if you start thinking about it from that angle then it becomes a bit clearer, I find. Graham and I, we grew up in Muggle culture. That was our world, and it has its own kind of magic. There’s just no sense saying any of us should have to leave all that behind. I mean, a toaster is just as effective as a heating charm.”

“Not to mention less effort,” said Graham. “Some magic families build themselves into these households that are so dependent upon spellwork that they don’t even give themselves the option to use technological solutions.”

“Ooh, like how my earphones stop working in magical areas?” said Chiân, catching on.

“Yes, or like phones not working at Hogwarts,” nodded Graham.

“Pain in the arse,” muttered Asher, and his mother tutted at him.

“And that’s why you can text me,” Chiân said to him excitedly. “Because you guys don’t use so much magic around the house you can use technology and stuff? Because there’s no interference?”

Graham and Debs both lauded her grasp of the trade-off. Chiân was fascinated. She’d never thought about a lot of this stuff, and this was certainly not a perspective she had heard from any of her friends at Hogwarts before.

“Don’t you worry that your magic will get like, rusty?” Chiân asked after a moment.

“What, you mean because we don’t practice?” said Graham.

“Yeah,” she said earnestly. She liked the idea of finding a way to live with both technology and magic, but she remembered the pride and power of deciphering the right kind of spell to move something through the air or change its appearance. The thought of letting that ability slide into disuse made Chiân feel desperately robbed.

With a grin Chiân knew very well from Asher’s face, Graham reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wand. Saying nothing, he pointed it towards the wide back window.

They all looked out into the garden. The dusky London light of mid-evening flared into a pool of vibrant purples and oranges, reds, greens, pinks. The hedges leapt up, their roots slipping from the soil and coiling up into feet. The plants of the garden danced in the rainbow mess of light. Chiân saw the squirrel, who was still trying to climb up the birdfeeder, sprout wings and begin to soar amidst the shrubbery. The branches and thistles had twisted into the shapes of short, miniature people, waving and twirling as they danced around the garden in a fey ritual of dance. The colours were splitting, separating into separate streams of pigment, which fluttered around each figure, clothing their leafy bodies in rippling swathes of light.

Chiân realised she was on her feet, as was Asher next to her. They stared out of the window in awe. The scene in the garden seemed to be full of laughter and song. The very sky was melting into the dance. They watched a nymph-like figure made of holly leaves bow her berry-speckled form to a nettle-man cloaked in royal blue. They took up a waltz across the garden.

There was a shout from somewhere in the house behind them. “Dad! Stop it, you’re messing with the wifi!”

Graham chuckled. “Sorry, May,” he called back, and with a modest twist of his wand he called all the creatures into a frantic spin. The scene blurred with spinning colour and plants, and then all at once each figure burst into dozens of perfect, tiny white doves. They fluttered and flapped with a flurry that was audible through the window, taking off into the sky. The whole window was obscured for a moment by wings and feathers.

Asher and Chiân were both up against the window, watching as the birds dissipated into the sky. Below them lay the garden, untouched, unchanged, but for a squirrel, who was mastering his new wings just enough to make a more successful bid for the bird feeder.

“Oh my god, that was amazing,” said Chiân, breathless.

“Magic doesn’t fade,” said Graham simply. Chiân did not look away from the garden.

A moment later May came into the kitchen to ask Chiân and Asher if they wanted to play Mario Kart with her and her friends. Chiân thanked Debs and Graham profusely, hoping that they knew it was for the conversation as much as the food, and Asher dragged her down into the basement where all the games consoles lived.

Chiân was pretty bad at Mario Kart, but May’s friend Frankie was worse. Asher decided it was high time Chiân learnt how to drift, so they spent a very enjoyable evening squabbling over controllers, laughing at each other’s terrible attempts to take even the mildest corner at high speed.

In the back of her mind Chiân was thinking about the conversation from dinner. She was getting better at drifting, which meant she had a little space to dwell in wonder on the magic Asher’s dad had performed for them. It had been so beautiful, so enthralling.

She enjoyed Mario Kart, and some of the graphics and characters were just as colourful, just as imaginative as the dancing hedge-people, but there was something so incomparable about magic. It was real in a way that films and games and technology never could be. She thought that their points about wanting to find ways to combine magic and technology were interesting, and there was probably some stuff about the attitudes to magic that were really important – but she privately thought that anyone who tried to pretend that magic wasn’t more powerful and just incomparably better than any Muggle versions was kidding themselves.

Debs came down at half past eleven, ten to midnight, and then quarter to one before her implorations to get them to go to bed had any real effect. She set Chiân up on the sofa downstairs in the basement, where they had been playing Mario Kart, bringing down blankets and sheets for her and pointing her towards a bathroom just outside the games room.

Chiân thanked her, calling to Asher to wake her up in the morning when he got up. He grinned and waved at her as he went up to bed.

Chiân changed into her pyjamas in the half-darkness of the games room, and then abruptly remembered she had never texted her mum.

She fumbled around for her phone. She had a few texts from her parents, but not angry or worried ones. In fact, she had a picture from her mum on Whatsapp of a letter which had come that day. It was from Vessy, saying that she was inviting all the Slytherins to come stay at hers for a long weekend, just one week away.

Chiân happily texted back asking if it would be okay if she did, and apologising for forgetting to text earlier.

She lay there in the Shackrel’s basement, thinking. It seemed absurd that she had only that morning seen all of her old school friends.

With another sad tug at her heart Chiân thought of Maddie, who had looked like she was trying to bravely feign nonchalance whenever she talked about her new school. She could hear Asher’s dad saying that magic didn’t make you better than anybody else, and that it could come to anybody.

She fell asleep feeling strangely guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-two-mission-audio?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	3. House and Home

Her weekend at Asher’s felt like it lasted a month, but in the best way possible. They talked about music, watched movies, went to the park with Meghan and Debs on Sunday afternoon, and spent quite a few conversations wondering what life would be like in a pure-blood, old-money Slytherin mansion – as Vessy’s was sure to be. Much of their time was spent up in Asher’s room playing video games and speculating about the triwizard tournament, due to be held in their upcoming year of school, and of course what could possibly be going on with Pretoria and Sam and the basilisk.

Chiân was relieved to discover that he also hadn’t heard anything. It made her feel a little less like perhaps she had just been forgotten.

She rode the tube home after lunch on Monday feeling light and happy. Meghan had actually cried when Chiân hugged her goodbye, which was sort of lovely.

She was going to Vessy’s that Thursday, which left only a few days at home that week. It turned out to not quite be long enough to let her sink all the way back into the moping greyness of her first month at home, so when Thursday morning came around she found herself packing with a smile on her face.

Vessy had said in her letter that everyone else would be arriving by floo powder, but as Chiân was not from a wizarding home – not to mention an auspicious lack of fireplace – she had a slightly more complicated journey involving two trains and a bus ride.

Chiân was careful to pack her wand this time. She knew that Vessy came from a magical family and that she would therefore be able to do magic without breaking any underage laws. The magic Asher’s dad had performed for them played in her head off and on all week, and it made Chiân itch to do magic again.

Chiân’s mum had definitely been a little upset at her daughter’s second weekend in a row spent away from home, but Chiân’s dad had stepped in to defend her. She boarded the train midday Thursday trying to leave the guilt at her mother’s sour face behind with the house and its heavy shadows of gloom.

Vessy’s letter had not given her an address, but rather had told her the closest Muggle town, and then instructions for which direction to walk. Chiân supposed this made sense – a large wizarding mansion was unlikely to be nestled in the back of a non-magic estate.

Chiân’s train journeys took her up towards the lower Pennines. She stood waiting for the bus to take her the final stretch of journey. She was alone at the stop, just down the road from the tiny station she had alighted into. Around her was a landscape of roiling, unsteady moorlands, rising up over each other out into the distance until they became broad-backed, heather-coated hills. The day was pierced with sunshine, though the wind across the horizon made it slightly chilly.

The bus ride took nearly an hour. Chiân was hot, bored, and distinctly sick of travelling by the time the driver slowed to a halt and twisted to call out that this was her stop. She only had patchy signal now, and hadn’t been able to respond to Asher’s snaps for at least an hour already. She hadn’t bothered packing her phone charger, assuming that Vessy’s house would be too ridden with magic to let her use her phone at all. She turned it off to save battery for the return journey, and slipped it into the top of her rucksack.

Feeling like one of the hikers they had passed on the narrow country roads, Chiân hitched up her backpack, thanked the bus driver, and stepped out into the village.

It was nearly a half an hour walk beyond the tiny town, according to the letter Chiân kept pulling out of her pocket to check. Vessy had mentioned that she hadn’t made the journey for years, explaining that her parents usually paid to set up a portkey for them all to travel back from London after each term. Chiân didn’t know what this meant, but imagined that it was probably another indicator that Vessy’s family was richer than they knew what to do with.

She left the road as instructed, just after passing a large pile of rubble which looked as though it might once have been some kind of farm house. She was wearing her roller boots, and it was a good thing too: they were sturdy enough to deal with the narrow sheep trail and mossy, uneven ground she was traipsing across. She crested a sloping filed, then down into another.

Chiân was so intent on not stepping into any animal holes disguised by gorse bushes that she did not notice at first that she was coming right up to the wrought-iron gate described in Vessy’s letter.

She looked around, slightly bewildered, thinking this could not possibly be the right place. There was nothing on either side of the gate, and a very conspicuous lack of anything behind it. It took Chiân a moment to remember that she could do literal magic, and that this was probably a security precaution.

She reached out a hand to the cold, wind-worn metal of the lone gate. It was nearly twice her height. Her fingers gripped one of the bars and suddenly she noticed that there was in fact a house beyond it – not just a house, but an estate. And the gate was in fact connected to a long, sturdy wall which ran straight out in either direction.

Chiân grinned, and pushed on the gate. It swung open and she heard a cry of greeting.

Vessy and Lydia were running towards her across what suddenly seemed to be well-kept, evenly flat lawn. Chiân shrugged out of her backpack and threw her arms around them in greeting, the gate swinging shut behind her.

“Oh my god it’s so good to see you!” said Vessy breathlessly, beaming at her and hugging her two more times before Lydia wormed her way in.

“It feels like it’s been years, doesn’t it?” Lydia said, grinning back at her. “And wait til you see Vessy’s house, oh my god it’s insane.”

Their incessant enthusiasm was infectious and very familiar. They took up their customary places on either side of her and walked her up the long, wide, stately gravel path that led to the institution of a house ahead of them.

“Did you get here okay? I’m so sorry you had to come to long way – how long did it take you?” Vessy asked.

“A couple hours,” said Chiân. The journey seemed insignificant in the excitement of finally arriving. “I set off at like eleven this morning.”

“Oh, you must be so hungry. We’ll be having dinner in a few hours. Come in, we’ll get some snacks or something,” Vessy led Chiân and Lydia up the clean, sandstone steps.

Instead of pushing through the imposing double doors however, Vessy turned and walked along the left side of the – for want of a better word – house. Lydia was clearly familiar with this route, and asked Chiân about her summer as they followed Vessy.

“Yeah, it’s been okay. Well, massively dull actually.”

“Ugh, same,” said Lydia, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I’ve even done all my homework I was so bored.”

Chiân and Vessy both laughed. They were passing around the side of the house, through a side gate in a thick hedge and out into gently sloping sunlight. There was no sign of the loping, untamed gorse of the Pennines in this perfectly-kept garden.

“Have you guys done the transfiguration essay? For Galbraith?” Vessy said.

Both Chiân and Lydia said ‘yes’, though Chiân was too distracted to hear Vessy’s subsequent complaints. A little out from them, surrounded by open lawn, was a kind of raised platform. It had its own roof, supported by pillars of marble in each corner. It appeared to contain a pit of cushions and blankets. In it were some familiar figures.

“Calix! Egan! Zach! Chiân’s here!” Vessy sang, jumping up the handful of steps which ran all the way around the dais.

The boys turned at her voice and called out greetings when they spotted Chiân. She and Lydia followed Vessy’s lead and stepped up onto the wide stone walkway, slipped off their shoes, and joined the nest of pillows and seat cushions which made up the centre.

“Hey guys,” said Chiân, looking around with interest. “Hey, Zach. Didn’t realise we were inviting the Ravenclaws, too,” she said genially. Zach made a scoffing noise. “Who else is coming?”

Vessy answered. “Um, Benji should be arriving soon, then Bessa, Rosie, and May, and Colby are all coming this evening.” All of these, except Benji, were Ravenclaw students from their year. The Slytherins and the Ravenclaws got on well, and Chiân wasn’t especially surprised to hear that they would be joined by this many. Hosting was a position which suited Vessy, lending her that sly combination of power, attention, and kindness.

“And I’m not gonna bother wondering if you have enough space for all of us,” said Chiân, nodding up at the house. “Vess, your house is ridiculous.”

She beamed and primped her hair a little. “I’ll show you around in a bit if you like, but not till everyone’s here. It takes _ages_ ,” she gave a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, it must be very difficult living in the literal houses of parliament,” snorted Chiân.

“The what?” said Calix, curiously.

Chiân had forgotten this particular part of hanging out with the Slytherins. “Never mind,” she shook her head, amused.

Vessy called the structure they were in the ‘lounge house’. She revealed to Chiân that the slightly darker slabs of stone around the edge, just behind their heads, were enchanted so that you could place your hand on them and request a drink or a snack, and a few moments later it would appear.

Chiân was impressed, and made the most of this feature immediately. She was unsuccessful in her request for pretzels, however, and Vessy hurriedly amended that it had to be a food they currently had in their kitchen, because the lounge house couldn’t actually produce food of its own accord.

The Willoughby’s kitchen seemed to be able to manage apple juice and a sandwich, though, and Chiân munched happily as she listened to the others talk about their summers.

A lot of the conversation was dominated by tales of a Quidditch match both Calix and Zach had attended, and which Lydia fervently wished she could have attended, but didn’t because her parents had grounded her for blowing up a frog with her wand.

A little while later they all heard a voice calling from the house. Chiân turned around and saw Benji following a slender woman in a light teal-coloured robe. She had to be Vessy’s mother, thought Chiân as they got closer. She had the same way of holding her head at a slight angle, and was also stunningly beautiful. She and her daughter had the same long, sleek blonde hair so fine it was almost silver. Chiân could see that Vessy was going to look just like her as she got older.

The others arrived as the afternoon lolloped into evening, and it finally came time to explore the house. Vessy led something of a procession, taking them in through the wide glass doors. Chiân was reminded forcibly of a school trip she had been on in year five to the Tower of London. The style of the house was sleek and modern, with shining black marble accented by pale blue and silver, rich greens and golds, but never in excess.

They passed through what felt like a very expensive and very empty hotel bar and followed the deep pine-coloured carpets out into a main foyer. Above them in the sloping alcoves of the vaulted ceiling was a chandelier to rival even the grandest Marriott.

Vessy, clearly in her element, led them airily up a grandiose marble staircase, along two passageways, another flight of stairs, and into her room.

Vessy’s suite was along the hall from her little sister’s. Lorna came and loitered around in the doorway at first, but Vessy rather rudely told her to get lost. She sulked back into the corridor.

Like the rest of the house, Vessy’s room was disproportionately large. Chiân had a strange feeling of loneliness – though a very different kind to the unlit gloom of her own two bedroom family home. A wide bed, buried in cushions and gauzey pale pink drapes was in the centre of the far wall. Part of the room was arranged into its own kind of sitting room, with plum coloured chaise longues forming a semi-circle around an ornate fireplace.

The others were arranging themselves on these recliners, laughing and chatting. Bessa and Colby were looking around with some interest, but for the most part Chiân saw that she was alone in her alienation. Vessy’s room at least had the virtue of feeling lived-in. Chiân waited until Lydia was using Vessy’s ensuite bathroom so that she could have an excuse to go back out into the corridor, to one of the other toilets. The corridors were wide, the floors a dark polished wood which reminded Chiân of the stairs up to Professor Petrarch’s office at Hogwarts.

The lack of any kind of technology, any electric lighting or radiators, not to mention any 70-inch plasma tvs, made the whole place feel like a museum. The presence of magic was subtle, but the harder you looked the more evident it became. There were paintings and portraits lining the corridors, most of the occupants snoozing gently in their frilly, lacy black dresses.

There were many, many rooms. Vessy’s mum came up later and showed them around some of the guest bedrooms in which they would be sleeping. These rooms were immaculate, though definitely uninhabited.

Chiân’s unasked questions about who cleaned everything were answered at dinner time, though. They had all been sat around in Vessy’s room, when suddenly the empty fireplace flared up in green flames and her mother’s voice rang out.

“Dinner time, everybody.”

Vessy had made a dramatic noise of displeasure, leaping up to take a pinch of powder from a pot atop the mantelpiece. She threw it back into the grate and yelled,

“Mum, can’t we just eat up here? Get Dundle to send it up,” she stood by the grate listening, and after a moment her mother’s voice replied.

“No, you can eat outside or you can eat down here. And take the stairs, please. I don’t want ash everywhere.”

Vessy had rolled her eyes but explained that their mum hadn’t let either her or her sister eat in their rooms since she had spilt hot chocolate on her sheets.

“Who’s Dundle?” Chiân asked her as they made their way down two flights of the house.

“Oh, he’s a house elf,” she said, as if this was unimportant.

Chiân was surprised. “You have a house elf?”

Vessy looked at her. “We have three,” she said, sounding as surprised as Chiân.

“You don’t have house elves?” said Calix, who was just behind them.

They were entering a long room dominated by a grand table that was set for all of them. Chiân took a seat between Vessy and Calix.

“I do not have house elves, no,” she said, bemused.

“Who does all your cleaning?” said Calix.

“Wait, Chiân doesn’t have house elves?” said Egan, who had just sat down opposite them. He sounded sceptical.

“I mean, we don’t either,” said Bessa, sitting down next to him. She nodded at Chiân and added, “Mum was so upset after the last one died that we haven’t got another one. She was very attached to it.”

“Are you guys all from like, wizarding families, then?” Chiân asked. She knew that the Slytherins were all of a like calibre, but it was interesting to hear the Ravenclaw kids were too.

They made noises of assent, but broke off at the entrance of several other people.

Vessy’s mother, now dressed in a floor-length robe of sparkling midnight, was speaking in a soft purr to a man behind her who introduced himself briefly as Vessy’s father. Lorna was still sulking, following her parents in and seating herself grumpily at the end of the table with them.

The man was not handsome, but nor was he unattractive. His face was lined and he held his head almost comically high, speaking with a sonorous drawl which suited the naturally imperious angle of his lips and eyebrows. He was dressed in an expensive looking robe of grey silk, his hair a similar peppered texture. He was balding slightly, and very thin.

Egan, always keen to be known, said eagerly to them both, “thank you for having us, Mr and Mrs Willoughby.”

Vessy’s mother smiled. “Please, call me Petra.” Chiân noticed that she had a slight accent, her vowels rounded with a distinct eastern-European billow.

“It is a delight to meet you all,” said Mr Willoughby unsmilingly. He inclined his head down the table. “We hope you will all enjoy your time here.”

Lorna was her sister in miniature. She wore a scowl which Chiân recognised from times Vessy had been stuck on her homework, and was stabbing a fork of what looked like solid silver into her table mat. Petra hissed at her as her husband spoke.

“I will only ask that you respect our property, our rules, and that you do not enter the east wing of the house.” He nodded again, looking serious. The kids along the table murmured their understanding, sounding absurdly like a school assembly.

“Baba Buku lives there,” whispered Vessy to them, then turned quickly back to her father, who had raised his arms.

“Eat,” he said.

Chiân half expected the plates in front of them to fill with food as they did at Hogwarts. Instead there were excited sounds from the far end of the table, nearest the door. Chiân looked around and saw dishes of food floating in an orderly line along the table, settling along the embroidered mats in front of each of them.

“Who is Baba Buku?” said Calix, leaning around to look at Vessy as the chatter picked back up.

“Baba Buku. She’s our grandma. She lives in the east wing,” Vessy was helping herself to roast vegetables, passing the dish to Chiân when she was finished.

“Doesn’t she come eat with you guys?” asked Lydia.

Vessy shook her head. “She’s so old I don’t think she can even leave her chair-“

“Vesper,” said her mother sharply from several seats down, and Vessy shrank a little, looking embarrassed. Chiân exchanged a curious glance with Calix, but they allowed Vessy to change the subject quickly.

“Chiân, I thought you said your dad was a wizard? Didn’t you grow up with magic?” she said, looking at her.

There was no judgement in her face – only curiosity. Egan was looking snide again, though this was something of a default expression for Egan.

“Nope. My mum’s a muggle, so I basically had a muggle upbringing,” she said cheerfully through a mouthful of food.

The others were listening in, including Vessy’s parents.

“So that would make you a half-blood,” said Egan.

“Assuming, of course, that your father was pure blood,” said Mr Willoughby, cutting smoothly into the conversation.

Chiân looked at him. His expression was unreadable. “Yup,” she said confidently. She had no idea if this was true, but she thought it might take some of the edge out of the looks she was getting.

“Shame,” said Vessy’s father, a slight, sad smile on his face.

Chiân raised an eyebrow, ignoring the glance Vessy was giving her. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, please,” he said breezily, smiling a little at her tone. “There’s nothing wrong with inter-marriage, not at all. It just strikes me as such a pity that there really are so few options left to marry into our own kind.” His voice was genuinely sympathetic, and Chiân watched as he reached across the table for his wife’s hand. “It’s understandable, of course, and I assume your father is happy?”

“He is,” Chiân said, again sounding confident in spite of her uncertainty that this was true. “So you guys are all pure blood, then?” She was addressing this to all her classmates listening in, but again Mr Willoughby answered.

“I am a pure-blood wizard, yes. Petra here is cross-blood, as are our daughters,” he gestured without looking at Lorna and Vessy.

“I’m cross-blood, too,” said Egan, proudly, raising his chin.

“I didn’t know that!” said Vessy, sounding delighted.

Chiân did not know what this meant, but the conversation was swept up again into questions about her muggle upbringing before she could ask.

“Is that why you had to walk here?” Calix asked her. “Because you don’t have any magic?”

Chiân gave him an amused look. “I have magic, I just can’t use it out of school. And I didn’t walk here – that would be like two hundred miles,” she chuckled, but stopped when Calix did not join in. It was both exasperating and amusing how skewed most wizards’ perceptions of distance were, and her friends were no different. “How did you guys get here?”

“Floo powder,” they chorused.

“What, all of you?” she said, looking around. They all looked at each other, nodding and shrugging like this was the norm. “Jesus, okay,” Chiân laughed again. She was becoming more and more aware of her black feathers in a room of swans. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She wanted to find some excuse to wander through the mansion and think, alone, though if she was honest with herself this was also because now that she knew the east wing was out of bounds she wanted nothing more than to disillusion herself and go exploring.

Chiân found an unexpected chance after dinner. Vessy excitedly suggested that if they wanted to they could all go for a swim in the stream which ran through the grounds a little ways out.

Most of them seemed up for it, but Chiân was relieved that she was not alone in deciding to refrain. Bessa, Colby, Egan, and Rosaline made noises of dissent, and so the group split into a few factions, Vessy leading the girls excitedly upstairs to change into swim-worthy clothes.

The evening was bright and cool, the Pennines looking bald and ruddy in the distance. Chiân came back up to Vessy’s chambers, trying not to look too obvious as she peered down the corridors they passed.

“You sure you don’t wanna come, Firebug?” said May as they got changed.

Chiân smiled at the name. “Nah, I’m pretty tired from walking two hundred miles,” she winked at her and May laughed. “Hey, Vess, did you say you had a library somewhere downstairs? Do you think it would be okay if I checked it out?”

Vessy gave her a look which plainly said that she thought Chiân was crazy, but she smiled all the same. “Sure. Um, you could just use the fireways if you want, or else I’ll call one of the elves to take you. It’s _miles_ away.”

Chiân still thought it was ridiculous to live in a house so big it was easier to move through it via floo network, so she opted to be shown around by an elf.

Vessy cleared her throat and called authoritatively, “Fundle! Can you come here, please?”

There was a loud crack that made Bessa and Rosie shriek. A tiny creature appeared in the middle of Vessy’s enormous antique rug.

“Miss called Fundle,” said the elf, giving a deep curtsey. She was wearing a long piece of plain linen that was wrapped around her like a toga.

“Show Chiân to the library, please,” said Vessy, without sparing the elf a glance.

“Have fun, nerd,” said Lydia, grinning to her, and the others followed Vessy out of the room, carrying towels and various other paraphernalia under their arms. Chiân heard them greet the boys, their giggles and laughter slightly louder than normal.

Bessa and Rosaline asked her again if she didn’t want to come join Colby and Egan with them at the lounge house.

“Yeah, I’ll come find you in a bit. I wanna see the library first,” said Chiân, and they left.

“Hello Miss!” said Fundle, who had been waiting patiently for her attention. She gave another curtsey to Chiân.

“Hi, I’m Chiân,” she said.

“I am Fundle, Miss!” she looked a little nervous.

“Cool, nice to meet you Fundle. Give me one second,” Chiân crossed to her bag, still in a pile with everyone else’s. She pulled out her wand, and then, after a moment’s thought, her phone. She knew it wouldn’t work here, but she thought maybe she might be able to take a few pictures to send to Asher once she had left. “Alright, lead the way, Fundle.”

The elf gave her a smile and scampered from the room. Chiân followed.

They retraced the path down to the main foyer, the evening breeze wallowing lazily around the ornate side-tables and gently glittering candelabras, making the marble floor seem even cooler underfoot. Instead of following the left branch out to the back area where Chiân could still hear shouts of laughter, Fundle led her down the opposite passageway.

This hallway was tall, and glowing a little in the golden hour of sunshine which was just peeking into the high, narrow windows.

Chiân was finding the elf’s silence slightly weird. The elves at Hogwarts were eager and noisy to the point of making a racket every time she went to the kitchens. “So, how long have you worked here, Fundle?” she said amicably, looking at the portraits they passed. Some of them met her eyes, curiously. She could see Mr Willoughby’s aristocratic haughtiness in their cheekbones and sneers.

“Um, begging your pardon miss, do you mean… here at this most noble house?”

“Yeah,” Chiân wondered what about this question had been confusing.

“Fundle has been serving here her whole life, Miss!” squeaked the elf in a hushed voice, still pattering along in front of her so Chiân couldn’t see her face.

“Oh right. You were born here?”

“Yes, Miss. And I will die here, Miss.” She sounded matter of fact.

“Oh,” said Chiân again.

“Fundle, what are you doing up here?” came a sharp voice. Chiân jumped a little and looked around as the voice said “Oh, hello miss…?”

It was Mr Willoughby, now dressed in a flowing robe of midnight that matched his wife’s. He had intersected them from an adjacent hallway which was much darker.

“Uh, I’m Chiân. Chiân Maeroris,” she said, refusing to look guilty. Then, eager to defend Fundle from any remonstration, added, “I asked Vess if I could see your library, so she called Fundle to show me the way.”

Mr Willoughby’s face eased into a look of pleasant surprise. “Aha, a lady of the books, are we?”

“Yes, sir,” Chiân grinned.

“Very good, very good. I hope you can be something of an influence on my eldest daughter,” he added, giving a more genuine smile than Chiân had yet seen from him. He sighed. “I worry that she has so very little of her mother’s natural acuity.”

Chiân had to stop herself saying ‘excuse you, she’s twelve’.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” he gestured with an arm, giving her a slight bow. “Enjoy your perusal, and if you find any books that interest you I daresay you’d be welcome to take them up with you for some evening reading.”

“Thank you, sir”, said Chiân, beaming at him. She wasn’t sure why she was calling him ‘sir’, but he seemed to warrant it.

Chiân did not try to speak again to the elf as they climbed a narrower staircase at the far end of the main corridor. Doubling back only a little on the next floor and taking a right, Fundle stopped and curtseyed once more.

“The library, Miss,” said the elf to the floor. “If Miss needs Fundle she can call Fundle at any time!”

“Thanks, Fundle,” said Chiân appreciatively, trying to make her tone warm. The elf did not see her expression before she disappeared again with a much softer ‘pop’.

Chiân pushed upon the thick wooden doors to the library. After the glory of the Hogwarts library almost anything would seem small, but this room could still have easily fit Chiân’s entire house inside it.

The torches were lit and the light inviting. In spite of herself, Chiân spent a few minutes browsing the spines of the books. There was an unsurprisingly large collection of books on wizarding ancestry and family trees.

After a quarter of an hour though Chiân came to her senses, remembering why she had made this excursion in the first place.

Despite the absolute silence of the library, she had a good peer around her to check she was alone. Then she pulled out her wand and tapped the top of her head, whispering. She felt a familiar trickle and looked down to watch her body warp into a sort of transparent smudge of itself.

Walking as quietly as she could, Chiân crept back to the door, stepped out, and closed it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-three-houses-and-homes?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	4. Baba Buku

It took Chiân four consecutive laps of the east end of the main hall to be sure that she hadn’t missed some kind of stairway or mysteriously locked door. She had gone up and down the many flights of stairs, checking the position of the sun out of the window to ascertain that she was still facing east.

It had been nearly forty minutes of climbing steps and peering through hallways. She had only seen two other people during her excursions, and that was Bessa and Colby laughing about something as they cross the landing between the main stairway and Vessy’s room.

Chiân stopped, hands on her mostly invisible hips, and frowned.

Of course, it wasn’t like they would label a forbidden wing, but she was also pretty sure she hadn’t found it yet. She had been enjoying wandering through the halls, examining fascinating taxidermied creatures she had never seen before, and eerie, floating objects in glass cases.

The longer it took her to locate the mysterious east wing, however, the more personal the challenge became.

Chiân was thinking hard. She knew it was okay to do magic here in this wizarding home, despite still being many years underage. She just didn’t want to get caught snooping through a house that was owned by one of the most formidable wizards she had yet encountered. Chiân thought that it must be possible to do spells without speaking – she, after all, had done much magic without a wand, let alone an incantation or conjuring motion. The problem was she didn’t know which spell would help her here.

The house was sunk through with magic, she could feel that. It would be difficult to sense an enchantment when the whole place was built on it.

Then she opened her eyes, grinning.

Wand out she re-climbed a stairway at the far end of the house, and stopped in front of the only suspiciously blank stretch of wall she had encountered on her journeys.

She checked around her again for people, and trying not to wake the wrinkled man sleeping in a nearby portrait, she raised her wand.

She mimicked Pretoria’s charm to detect enchantments – the one they had used down in the vaults beneath Hogwarts Library last year. From the tip of an apparently floating wand came a shimmering golden line. It floated towards the wall, and then sank into it, dissipating against the panelled wall.

Chiân frowned. So it wasn’t here, then.

She did another slow circuit of this end corridor, passing several empty rooms which held lone, unused beds, or little tables and lounge chairs.

Passing one of these doorways Chiân suddenly did a double take. Something had flickered as she had walked by. She stepped back, and stared into it.

It wasn’t dusty, but still seemed utterly unused and still. Chiân peered around in the gathering gloom of the chamber. Being at the eastern end of the Willoughby mansion, these rooms were no longer getting much light.

Perhaps it had been a bird, flitting by the lone, stark window.

She stepped back to continue her patrol, but then caught it again. Just a slight glimpse of a yellow, flame-like glow.

She raised her wand and drew another strip through the air. It floated into the doorway, and shimmered brightly as it crossed the threshold.

Grinning in triumph, Chiân stepped back and surveyed the doorway. Clearly there was something beneath it, a room or a space which was concealed by this unremarkable parlour room before her. But how to get through?

Tilting her head to consider the problem, Chiân realised that the glimpse of light she was catching became visible every time she caught the doorway from the widest angle possible. If she stood along the wall beside it and peered across, it was like looking through a chink in a door left ajar. She leant in, squinting with one eye into this alternate space, and made out a corridor much like the ones she had been fruitlessly tramping around for an hour now.

Heart beating in excitement, Chiân very carefully reached out a hand, just as she would push open a door, and tried to get her fingers into the gap. She could feel the seam, like a drunk man feeling for the edge of a door in the dark. Chiân held her breath and concentrated, gripping her wand in the other hand, trying to make out the magic necessary to prize open this narrow gap of light.

With a little effort and a combined application of wand and hand, the chink of torchlight began to swing wider. The other room seemed to melt away as the true entryway slid into view.

Chiân stepped back and watched it materialise, feeling very pleased with herself. With one last glance over her shoulder, she stepped into the warmly lit corridor of the east wing.

This was more like it, thought Chiân. This hallway mirrored the west wing where Lorna and Vessy had their suites. It was just as grandiose, just as oiled in the feigned subtleties of extreme wealth.

It was distinctly more cluttered, as well, as though the mysterious ‘Baba Buku’ who lived here came with a horde of personal affects which she liked to keep around her, displayed in open cabinets along each wall. There were no portraits here, though Chiân passed one or two paintings of strange, indistinct landscapes, some sporting inhuman figures with birds’ heads, or arms that ended in huge claws.

Chiân could hear something up ahead, on the left. It was a voice, murmuring.

She checked herself, even though she knew that her disillusionment charm was definitely strong enough to conceal her effectively from even the most prying eyes. Though, Chiân admitted to herself with a grin, the only eyes that were currently prying in here were her own.

She approached an oak-panelled corner, which gave way into some larger living space or hallway, trying to make out the voice.

Suddenly there was a harsh, shouting bark of a command, and Chiân leapt backwards as a large, vulture-like creature flew around the corner, screeching at her.

Chiân knew immediately that somehow the bird could see her. It was blaring indignantly, and Chiân could hear another voice shouting beneath the noise.

She figured the best thing to do right now was either run, or step up to the challenge, and Chiân was no quitter.

With a hasty wrap of her wand she wrinkled back into full visibility, quickly stowing her wand in her pocket and raising her open hands slowly to the bird, trying to quiet it.

“Do not _shush_ Bukuroshe. She _sees_ you,” cawed the voice from around the corner. The enormous bird flapped out of reach, cawing at her, unmistakeably glaring into her eyes. Chiân stared in bewilderment up at it. Again the voice around the corner spoke in a harsh, ringing voice. “Who are you? What do you here in Bukuroshe’s place?”

Chiân frowned, lowering her hands. The bird continued to flap furiously, hovering above her, not releasing her gaze. The voice was definitely not familiar, but its bolshy eastern European accent was.

“My name is Chiân Maeroris. I’m one of Vesper’s friends,” she said at last, wary but unafraid. She addressed the bird as she spoke.

“My granddaughter Vesper?” the accent was thick, the voice hissing. “She is sending you?”

“Oh, no,” Chiân said cheerfully to the bird. “She didn’t send me. I’m just very nosy.”

There was a long pause, veneered only with the rushing sounds of the bird’s wings. Then the voice gave a snorting cackle. The voice said something else in an unfamiliar language. The bird gave a satisfied squawk and flew back around the corner.

Cautiously, Chiân stepped forwards to peer once again around the corner. The creature was settling itself on the back of a large, well-worn armchair. It was still looking at Chiân with an unnervingly attentive gaze.

In the chair was a woman, though at first Chiân thought she could not possibly be human. She blinked at the woman, trying to stare without looking like she was staring.

She was stout and plump, and very, very old. She had long, dead-looking hair which was a richer, more silvery grey than it had any right to be. Her face was astonishingly, disturbingly hawk-like. Her nose came out in a hooked, harsh beak-like way, her lips curling up to add to the bestial effect. Her cheekbones were sallow and slanted in hard angles, the skin betraying the effect by sagging in wrinkles around her jowls.

Most of all, though, Chiân could not look away from her eyes. They were rolling independently, roaming slowly all over the room, pale and huge, and definitely blind.

“Well, come here, child,” she said again, her bird-like face curving into an unnerving gape of a grin. Despite the ferocity of her appearance the old woman gave an impression of lingering beauty. It was as if someone had once, a long time ago, done a very poor job of turning her into a bird.

Chiân straightened up and approached her slowly, staring openly now.

“I am Bukuroshe,” she said in her cawing, thickly Slavic way. “You are staring at old Bukuroshe,” she added with a hint of humour. She had not turned her head as Chiân approached, not looked at her with those vague, unseeing eyes. This comment made Chiân stop in her tracks.

“Um-“

“Do not _um_ ,” she seethed. “Do speak plain. I have not time for _um_.”

Chiân gathered herself. “Are you blind, Bukuroshe?”

Again the woman gave an inhuman cackle. “Bukuroshe sees all,” she said cryptically, still not turning her head, though Chiân was beside her now. “Sit.”

Chiân sat, cross-legged on the rug before the old woman. She was looking up at the bird, wondering.

“I see it in your young face,” said the lady, her amusement far from reassuring. “You too are seeing.”

“Is the bird… I mean, are you seeing through the bird?” Chiân was looking into the vulture’s eyes. Or perhaps it was an eagle. It looked unnervingly like its mistress, who was grinning.

“Very good, very good, it is true. Bukuroshe has not seen with her eyes for very long years. But still I see all,” she said, raising a hand to stroke the bird, which preened beneath her threateningly long-nailed fingers.

They sat in silence for a moment, Chiân watching the bird and Bukuroshe, through the bird, watching her.

Chiân figured the old woman could easily have ordered the bird to peck her eyes out when it first somehow discerned her presence, so she may as well make the most of not yet being dead.

“May I ask you a question, Bukuroshe?”

She gave a slight gesture of the hand to indicate that Chiân could.

“I mean no offense,” she began carefully. “But I was wondering… are you human? I mean, you look like you are part bird. Not in a bad way, I mean-“

Chiân was cut off by another raised hand. The long, yellow nails curved into talons at the end of her short, wrinkled fingers. The hawk – or maybe it was a vulture – cocked its head to examine her more clearly. Chiân tried to meet its eye with a steady gaze of her own.

She didn’t seem angry, though. After a moment’s thought she answered, her voice more genial than it had been so far. “I am not human, no. Though we are like the human. We are Veela,” she said slowly, pronouncing the last word with extra care.

“You’re… sorry, a what?”

“Veela,” she waved her hand impatiently this time. “Or Vila, or Harpy, or what it is you want to call us. Like Siren. We are beauty of the east. We are creatures of forest and snow, and we do walk with human, and we can live with human, but no, we are not human.”

Chiân stared at her, mouth open a little in awe.

“Wait, does that mean that Vessy – I mean, Vesper, and her mum, Petra-“

“They are only _part_ of Veela. They have a father of human,” she said, sounding haughty.

“Are Veela… born blind?”

Now her laughter was cold. “No. And I was not born this way. But I am only blind in body. In self, I am see,” she sat up a little straighter, and the bird ruffled its wings, “ _everything”._

Chiân waited patiently for an advancement on this declaration, but none came. She caught the eye of the kestrel – or maybe it was a hawk – and asked another question. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Uh, with the bird. How are you seeing through it?”

“Like this,” said the woman, a nastiness in her tone this time. Chiân stirred in alarm as she felt a kind of nauseating twinge at the base of her neck, like some unseen creature had flown very close to her skin. She had a moment of bewildering disorientation, when she suddenly couldn’t remember her own name – couldn’t be sure if she was sitting or standing – and certainly did not know why she was in this strange room.

She shook her head to clear it, gasping a little and blinking. She looked back up at the woman, dizzy, and slightly unsettled. Chiân opened her mouth to apologise for her momentary lapse in consciousness.

It was the strangest sensation, looking up at the old woman’s face. Chiân had not moved from her position on the rug, but suddenly felt as though she were in a desperate crouch, hounded and cornered, cowering in the control of some greater creature. It was a primal, hackle-raising tension that locked her jaw and made her cave her shoulders in, uncomfortable. But she could not look away from the woman.

Chiân knew enough to recognise that there was a strong and strange magic currently invading her head – a power that was not her own. Reluctantly, unable to counter the motion, Chiân’s eyes moved without her volition out to the window.

She could tell that she still had control of her body, that if she relaxed into it the feeling of being used as a sort of living camera might be perfectly bearable. Something in her was furious at the intrusion, though, and it was something deep within her that she wasn’t sure she could control.

Chiân grit her teeth, trying to tell herself that the old woman was just showing her a trick – just a magic trick – that this was not an attack, not a malicious attempt to conquer her mind. Indeed, Chiân could feel her way around the presence behind her eyes, like a strange double layer of thought, some of it hers, some of it roping out into something external from her. It was the very opposite feeling to the hole she had borne in her mind for much of last year – too much, too dense, too tightly crammed in the space behind her eyes.

“Please stop,” Chiân said stiffly, her body rigid as the woman moved Chiân’s eyes back up to her own face. She merely smiled her hawkish smile, raising a taloned finger to adjust a stray hair, as if Chiân was a mirror.

“You do not enjoy being my eyes?” asked Bukuroshe, sounding amused.

“Not particularly, no,” said Chiân through gritted teeth. The panic and anger at feeling someone else in her own head was marshalling itself into a position of volatile power which Chiân knew from a few memorable moments throughout her life. She didn’t want to hurt the old woman – or worse, kill her. With some effort to remain calm, Chiân spoke again. “If you don’t stop, I’m afraid I might have to make you.”

Bukuroshe actually chuckled, but then leant forward sharply in her chair, pulling Chiân’s eyes up to her own face, as if she was examining her through her own, rolling, whitened eyes. “Little girl, you are thinking you can make me leave?” she did not sound threatening, just doubtful. “You have much spirit, I think. Go ahead.”

She sat back in her chair, blank eyes aimed somewhere above Chiân’s head, passive and unassuming. She made a gesture as if to give Chiân permission to do what she liked.

Chiân held the tense, rolling aggression in her head for an uncertain moment, checking and double checking herself to be sure she wasn’t going to explode like she had above the lake.

Carefully she moved into the crouch she was already feeling in her mental posture, her fingers splayed on the carpet either side of her.

She wanted to shut her eyes, to instinctively shut off the attraction she offered to the sightless woman, to sever the connection. Using this as a starting point Chiân felt her way around the presence in her head, concentrating hard. She could feel the shape of a will there, almost a thought, but the flavour was alien, other. Not hers.

Chiân was not sure how she did it. She went into herself and closed in around the patch of pressure that was Bukuroshe’s presence in her head. For one unstable moment Chiân was looking out from her own eyes in a two-fold, head-splitting, dizzying recess of double vision. Then she slipped out of her own mind, following the threads of thought and magic until she was in a head that was not her own.

She had an impression of thick snow, of bitter cold, and her hands, lit up like they once had been in her own body, but this time with small balls of fire. She remembered faces, dark, long and pale, tired voices gabbling in a thick language she suddenly understood. She was small, beautiful, preyed upon – she was taught by her mother to live deep in forests where the groping hands could not possess her – she was a teenager, bleeding and fertile, more alluring than moonlight for the men of the village – she was in love, she had met a man, an honest and kind man, who looked at her not with greed but with respect – she followed him, far away, over the seas, out of the rich land that was her home – away from her mother, away from her sisters who danced in the moonlight together – she came here, to this colourless, this bland, this empty country – she lived a life of wretched compromise, homesick but devoted to her husband with the respect in his eyes – but he had died – she had borne the child alone, grief laying waste to her heart, her sight, and her body – she tore at the walls around her which kept her from sprouting her wings – which kept her from returning home – to find her mother, who had loved her, who had protected her – in rage and in darkness she had risen into the monster the men of the village had cursed – the creature her mother had become when protecting her – the men, the uncles, the families of the man she had married, they cursed her, they screamed at her – they ripped from her the wings from her back, crippled her legs – stole from her arms the child – the last hope she had had – the last glimpse of home.

So many years of darkness, she remembered, keening softly from the chair she could never again leave. She would hear the birds beyond the window where she would sit, the black warmth on her face a small pleasure in the sightless grief of a caged bird. She had learnt the language of the birds, calling to them, coaxing them with the crumbs of the food she did not want to eat, the food they brought her, begging her, saying that they were her own child when she knew it could not be – could not be her Petra – could not be – she did not have the beauty, did not have the skin which shone like the moon herself – she could not feel it when she touched her.

She had retreated in the blackness, retreated to the birds, reaching out to them with her mind, until one day she had found their minds, learning to possess, learning anew to fly. She remembered soaring, the feeling of stretching above the fell backs of the hills, hunting at night, sitting in the sill of the stone window at the dawn, unsleeping, moving from mind to mind, watching the bleak moors, watching the woman who was no longer her child, not as beautiful as her mother but with a little, maybe a little, of that same gentle respect in her eyes that she had loved so much back in her home forests.

She was Bukuroshe, and she saw everything. She flew in a murder above the enchantments of the estate, watching her grandchildren grow, crying her remorse each morning to the dawn that she had been mutilated, shut away from her own daughter because of the anger which lived side by side with the beauty she had once had. She protected the land, sat proudly upon the roof to watch the eldest granddaughter leave for her school, magic alive and well in the silver of her hair. No moonlight here in this ceaseless moor. No fire in these hands any more. No dancing any longer in these cursed legs. No sight in these sightless eyes, but she was Bukuroshe, and now she saw everything.

Chiân was caught in the giddying heights of memory for a few moments more, before realising that she really was soaring. She felt the strange, unfamiliar extremity in which she moved, side by side with not one but two minds.

She was in the bird – the eagle creature – with Bukuroshe, and they were flying out across the grounds. She understood that Bukuroshe was showing her what she could not articulate in the language that was not her mother tongue – that this was who she was, why she was locked away in the east wing.

They circled high above a small roof out on the lawn. Chiân recognised it in some far part of her own head as the lounge house. They landed, Bukuroshe and Chiân sharing the same hawkish eyes, alighting on the branch of a tree a way out from the glow of the lanterns which hung from the eaves of the lounge house.

Chiân felt Bukuroshe move the bird’s head, starring at Vessy, sat there between May and Lydia, her long hair fluttering slightly as she laughed with them at something one of the boys had said.

Chiân felt the great swell of wordless grief in the old woman’s heart, and reached out with her own compassion, gentle in the gathering darkness, to stand in solidarity with this broken creature who was so far now from the humanity that had once been assumed of her.

Bukuroshe retreated from the bird’s mind, pulling Chiân out with her. Chiân felt the natural moment of divergence from this strange, intense intimacy of will, and became aware again of her crouching body, shuddering with exertion on the rug.

It was like having very bad mental pins and needles – not painful, exactly, but definitely an all-consuming discomfort as Chiân tried to find her way around her own limbs again.

It was a few minutes before she had recovered herself, stumbling to her feet and stretching a little, grimacing at the new depths of discomfort she was experiencing. By the time she felt almost normal again, her head entirely occupied by her and only her, she realised that Bukuroshe had turned away from her, twisting in her chair so that her blind eyes were gazing out across the room. She was weeping, silently, sightlessly.

Chiân watched her, deeply quietened and full of reverence for the woman. The bird, Chiân knew, was still outside, so Bukuroshe could not see her.

The woman did not seem to be aware that Chiân was still there. She continued to weep into the arm of the chair, face turned towards nothing, desolate and desolated in the greying dusk.

Chiân crossed the room and knelt swiftly by her chair.

“Bukuroshe,” she said softly. The old woman did not answer, but lifted one hand, ever so slightly.

Chiân reached out and took it. She grasped it firmly, trying to communicate in that same wordless way.

“Thank you for showing me so much, Bukuroshe.”

The woman squeezed her hand with an unlikely strength. “Little girl, you will call me Baba,” she said.

“Baba,” said Chiân, smiling.

“You go to your friends now,” she said simply, letting go of Chiân’s hand.

“Are you sure? I can stay?” Chiân stood up, looking down at the woman. She closed her eyes with a long sigh.

“No. I am resting now. Go to your friends.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow, if you like?”

There was a long silence in which Chiân wondered if the woman had just fallen asleep. But then a very small smile graced her features, and the traces of beauty became a little more evident. “I would like that, I think,” she said softly.

Chiân smiled, though Baba Buku could not see it, and bid her a good evening. As she rounded the corner back out into the main corridor of the east wing she heard a flapping and rustling which told her that the bird had returned to its mistress.

Chiân did not bother with the disillusionment charm, and only noticed that she had left the east wing because she glanced over her shoulder and realised that she was looking back not into the torch-lit hallway but into a dark, unused room.

She did not look back again as she hurried along the corridor, almost running down the marble staircase. She only slowed to a walk when she stepped off the veranda at the back of the house, heading through the shadowy grass to the small pool of light, which contained her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-four-baba-buku-audio?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	5. Fight and Flight

“There you are!”

“Hey, Firebug!”

“Where have you been hiding?”

They called out to Chiân as she stepped into the lounge house. Vessy gave her an exasperated look and Calix teased her for getting lost in a library during her summer holidays.

She was quiet for the rest of the evening, sat next to Bessa and Colby, listening to the conversations about parents and siblings, Hogwarts legends, and Quidditch leagues.

The next day, Friday, was the only other day during which Mr Willoughby would be at work rather than in the house, so Vessy suggested that they make the most of this by playing a huge game of hide and seek.

Their mother rolled her eyes when Vessy asked her permission that morning, but said with a grin that as long as they didn’t make a mess it was fine with her.

“And don’t go into the east wing,” Vessy reminded them all in a business-like way as they sat around on the veranda, several of them still in pyjamas.

“What’s in the east wing?” asked May, who had not heard Vessy’s whispered comments at the dinner table the previous evening.

Petra, wearing a satin gown of silvery pink, crossed her ankles delicately at the patio table. “Those are my mother’s quarters. She is very elderly now and will not appreciate being disturbed,” she gave them all a stern look, her beautiful face curving into a mild frown of warning.

Some of the others looked a little disappointed, like they had imagined – or even hoped – that it was some kind of forbidden den of mysterious magic.

Chiân took a large swig of freshly squeezed orange juice and said absolutely nothing at all.

As soon as Petra returned to the house, asking that they also avoid the master suite, where she would shortly be taking a bath, Vessy scooted in to the girls with a light in her eyes.

“Baba Buku, my grandma, is _really_ dangerous,” she said to them. They all leant in to listen.

“What do you mean?” said Rosie.

“She went mad years ago, before I was born, and nearly burnt down the whole house. She’s been locked in the east wing ever since.”

“Woah,” breathed some of the girls. Calix leant in impatiently, demanding to know what they were all whispering about.

Checking around for her mother, Vessy repeated it for the others, a little more loudly.

“Mother says we’re not supposed to talk about Baba,” said a whiny, disapproving voice. Lorna was stood on the threshold, glaring at her sister.

“Go away, Lorna,” said Vessy dismissively, and Lorna scowled, stepping back into the house.

“I’ve only met her like three or four times in my whole life,” Vessy continued impressively, enjoying the attention from the rapt faces around her.

The game of hide and seek proceeded shortly, with Egan remaining on the patio to count to a slow one hundred.

They all ran into the house, shouting and whooping. Chiân lost the others as soon as possible and headed straight for the east wing. She checked over her shoulder before squeezing her fingers into the seam between the wall and the threshold into the empty room before her. It was almost impossible to catch the crack of disparate reality in the common light of day.

“Baba?” she said quietly, stepping into the corridor.

A voice called out in greeting, and Chiân moved forwards eagerly.

Bukuroshe had not moved from her chair and blankets, and the giant bird was perched on top of a cabinet by the window. Chiân waved to it and the old woman cried a greeting in her harsh, cawing voice.

Chiân sat again at Baba Buku’s feet. She asked the woman to teach her how to do the magic she had been part of yesterday, and Bukuroshe spent an hour with Chiân, showing her how to reach towards the bird’s mind with her own, how to exert one’s will over the will of another creature.

Chiân excitedly asked whether this was like the magic of legilimency that had so fascinated her last year. Baba Buku had not known that word, and Chiân had then discovered that Baba Buku did not use a wand for her magic.

“Veela do not have need of wands,” she had said impatiently, waving her hands dismissively.

Chiân filed this away under ‘interesting things to think about later’, and tried again to reach for the bird in the corner of the room.

As the morning bled into the afternoon Chiân was soaring around the grounds of the Willoughby house in the eyes of a raven. She still wasn’t very good at it, and the sensation of being sat in one place whilst seeing something other made her feel quite nauseous.

She still felt very pleased with herself though, and thanked Baba Buku profusely, saying that she should probably go make a reappearance before anybody got suspicious.

She needn’t have worried, though. The hide and seek game had turned into a riotous and continuous game of chase through the corridors of the house. Several hours after slipping into the east wing Chiân was able without difficulty to make an appearance in one of the sky-lit attic rooms, feigning annoyance that nobody had found her yet.

The other moment of interest that weekend came on Sunday evening. Chiân was walking with Lydia and Benji back up to the house, flanking Vessy as she went to find her mother. The others were in the lounge house and Vessy wanted to ask if they could have their final dinner out there instead of coming back in.

The four of them found Vessy’s parents in a large, black-walled parlour room, drinking out of crystal glasses and talking airily with another couple.

“Ah, Vesper, you remember Mr and Mrs Fenwrite?” said Mr Willoughby as Vessy pushed open the door.

Vessy nodded, and the rest of them murmured hellos.

“Our son, Montgomery, will be starting at Hogwarts next month,” said the man. He had a slightly sanctimonious manner which reminded Chiân of Egan.

“We hope, of course, that he shall be in your house,” said the woman, smiling at them all. “Though Ravenclaw would not be a disappointment.” They all chuckled as if this had been a witty thing to say.

Vessy was not interested and turned to her mother to ask if they could have dinner sent to them outside.

The other adults continued to talk, returning to their previous topic of conversation: work.

“Of course, I told the Minister it would go this way. Give these people an inch and they take a mile,” Mr Fenwrite sighed.

“Quite right, too. I disagreed with the ruling of the Wizengamot at Berkley’s trial last year, and look where it has got us,” agreed Mr Willoughby.

“There’s a naughtocrat in my office, you know,” added Mrs Fenwrite.

“No,” Mr Willoughby looked shocked. “Who hired him?”

“Oh, he’s been working there for a few years, but was only recruited to MISSION a few months ago. He’s becoming more pain than he’s worth, which is a problem because he is worth quite a lot,” she added with a displeased roll of her eyes.

Chiân looked between the adults, not noticing that her friends were turning to leave, excited that Petra had said yes to their request.

“Come on,” said Lydia, dragging Chiân out of the parlour with them.

Chiân quickened to come up beside Vessy as they made their way back outside.

“Vess, what does your dad do?”

“He’s head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement,” she said proudly. “Why?”

“They were talking about naughtocrats. I was just wondering-“

“Oh, they’re a bunch of people who think we shouldn’t use magic, or some such nonsense,” said Benji, sharing a knowing look with Vessy.

“Yeah, dad had a lot of trouble with them. They’ve been lobbying the office for muggle-relations for like a year now. They’ve got this sit-in protest thing happening at the ministry that’s driving my dad crazy,” said Vessy with a pained expression which mimicked her father’s.

“What are they protesting?” asked Chiân as they approached the lounge house.

“You talking about the MISSION lunatics at the ministry?” said Calix, turning his head as they climbed back into the cushioned seating area.

“Yeah. Do you know what they’re protesting?” Benji asked him.

Calix scoffed. “They want to overturn the wand-carriage legislation. Ridiculous.”

“It’s actually very dangerous,” said May with wide eyes. “I heard they want goblins and house elves to be allowed to carry wands.”

“God, can you imagine?” said Egan, sounding appalled.

Bessa was frowning. Chiân liked Bessa. “It’s not that weird. I mean, they can already do magic so what’s the big deal?”

Several people turned to goggle at her.

“The wand is just a status symbol, right?” said Chiân. “Like, if you have a wand then you’re human?”

“Well, yes,” said Lydia, cocking her head at Chiân like she couldn’t figure out what she was getting at.

“The creatures don’t need wands,” said Calix as if this was obvious. “So why should we give them wands?”

“Well, you’re saying that they’re the same as humans.”

“Which they are,” said Chiân stubbornly.

Several people made noises between laughter and bewilderment.

“Chiân,” said Vessy sympathetically. “You’ve literally just said that non-humans are basically human.”

“Yeah?”

Calix and several others were laughing. “Listen to that sentence again, Chiân,” said Calix.

“Non-humans are the same as humans…” said Egan, as if spelling it out to a child.

Chiân shook her head impatiently. “I’m not saying they _are_ human – I’m saying that just because they aren’t the same species as us doesn’t mean they’re less important or-“

“Oh what, and we should give muggles wands too?” said Egan contemptuously. This got a few rallying chuckles.

“What, because muggles are also less than human?” said Chiân sharply, holding his gaze steadily. Egan had the grace to look at least a little awkward.

“That’s not what anyone’s trying to say,” said Vessy, looking distressed.

“Firebug, you can’t honestly say that muggles are the same as wizards?” said May, sounding incredulous.

“Look,” said Lydia with an air of keeping the peace. “There’s nothing wrong with muggles, just like there’s nothing wrong with goblins or house elves or whatever. It’s just about being careful how we use magic.”

“Yes, exactly,” said Vessy.

Lydia continued. “It’s like, witches and wizards have a duty to make sure that magic is kept under control so it doesn’t get used in a way that’s dangerous to muggles and stuff.”

Chiân thought about this for a moment. It seemed to make some sense, but she couldn’t help thinking what Asher’s dad would say if he heard an argument for this point of view.

Calix was speaking again. “It’s the same deal with the whole pureblood question. Like, there’s nothing _wrong_ with marrying a muggleborn, and it’s not like there’s much choice to not marry a half-blood, but there’s still a duty, y’know?” Egan was nodding solemnly next to him.

“A duty to what?” asked Chiân.

“Make sure that the magic bloodlines stay as strong as possible,” said Lydia, looking at her with genuine surprise.

To Chiân’s gratitude Bessa spoke up. “My dad says that’s nonsense,” she said airily. Rosaline next to her was looking uncomfortable.

“Really?” said Calix.

“Yeah. He says there’s no proof that pure bloodlines make for stronger magicians.” She smiled at Chiân.

Egan and Lydia both snorted.

“Yeah, but muggleborns aren’t like,” Calix looked around for support. “I mean, they’re not _real_ wizards, are they?” He caught sight of Chiân’s raised eyebrows and hurried to explain himself. “Again, I’m not saying they’re like, worse or anything – it’s just important, I think, to make sure we don’t forget like, heritage and things.”

“Yes,” agreed Vessy, pointing at him with relief in her face. “There’s nothing wrong with being muggleborn, as long as you know that you’re muggleborn and don’t try to pretend you’re not.”

“And as for the human and non-human thing,” said Calix looking earnestly at Chiân, “I mean, if we really thought non-humans were less important or whatever then we wouldn’t cross blood, would we?” he had a tone of having proved a point beyond reproach.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask,” said Chiân, an uneasy suspicion rising in her stomach. “What is ‘cross-blood’?” she looked at Vessy.

She raised her head in that proud Willoughby way. “It’s when you keep the bloodline pure by marrying into other magical races.”

Chiân stared at her. She was thinking of Baba Buku, and the life she had shown Chiân in her first excursion into the secluded east wing. She thought of the man with respect in his eyes, and the pining in Bukuroshe’s heart for the forest and for her lost sisters far out in the eastern winters.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lydia was saying, “Egan, didn’t you say you were cross-blood as well?”

“Yes,” he said, with a similar, strange pride in his face, as if this was a quality that made them special.

“What’s your creed?” Lydia asked. Everyone looked at him. Chiân guessed from the way Lydia had pronounced the question that this was the language commonly used for the matter in hand.

“Part vampire, on my father’s side, pureblood on my mother’s.”

Chiân was quietly stunned. The others asked the same question of Vessy, who was then caught up in explaining to the group what a ‘Veela’ was. It did not seem to occur to a single one of them that there was something weird about preferring to couple with other, non-human magical species than muggleborns – with vampires rather than non-magical humans.

Chiân noticed that Bessa was watching her. She met the Ravenclaw girl’s eyes with a long look. Bessa’s face seemed to say ‘drop it’. Chiân agreed that this was a much bigger argument than she fancied embarking on at this particular moment.

She didn’t say much that night either, though had a good time later on in the evening talking with Rosie and Bessa, both of whom were a little less conservative about muggle culture.

Chiân made it til about 2am before insisting that she wanted to go to sleep – after all, she was the only one who would have to do any significant travelling the next day. None of the others showed any signs of wanting to go to sleep, which suited Chiân just fine.

She had hoped that she might be able to go say goodbye to Baba Buku before anybody else came up to the guest rooms and missed her, but Vessy extricated herself from the lounge house and followed her up the darkened lawn.

“Hey, Chiân, wait up.”

Chiân turned. “Hey, Vess. You okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to walk up with you,” she beamed at Chiân, an edge of nervousness in her smile. Chiân thought she knew what was coming.

They continued the chat about the impending triwizard tournament that had been raging for the past hour outside. Calix’s mother had been Hogwarts champion years ago, so the stories had run rampant until they began to spiral into wild speculation.

Vessy lingered with Chiân until she was in her pyjamas. Chiân looked at her for a moment, then took pity on her.

“What’s bugging you, Vess?”

“Um, I just wanted to check that you weren’t… angry, or offended or anything by the conversation earlier.”

Chiân sighed and sat down on the bed. Vess joined her. “Not angry, no. I think it’s just… I was raised in the muggle world, pretty much, so it’s strange to see it from your guys’ point of view.” She thought of Asher’s parents and had a rush of empathy for what they had been saying about being asked to choose between worlds.

“That’s so totally fair,” Vessy said, always eager to please. “Don’t think they’re bad people, please.”

“What, muggles?” said Chiân, more sharply than she had intended.

Vessy’s eyes widened. “No, no, I meant those guys,” she waved a hand at the dark window. “You know none of us are prejudiced. We have _loads_ of friends who are muggleborn and stuff.”

Chiân looked into her face for a hint of irony, but there was none. She wanted to ask Vessy why she felt so desperate to defend herself if this was the case, but remembered Bessa’s look.

“It’s okay, Vess. It kinda makes sense, in a way. I mean, wands can definitely be dangerous in the wrong hands. Look at me,” she said, a rueful smile on her face. She had never told Vessy, or any of the other Slytherins, about her brother, but Vess did at least know that Chiân had once accidentally nearly destroyed her entire house with her dad’s wand.

She nodded understandingly, looking relieved. “And you’re not offended by all the pureblood stuff?”

Chiân held her gaze with a searching one of her own. “You don’t honestly think that muggles are worse than magical people? Or, like, magical non-humans?”

“No, no, of course not! I don’t think they’re worse at all – they’re just as special and just as important,” she said, and it sounded as though she had learnt it by rote. “I just think it’s probably not a good idea to marry outside your own kind, y’know?”

Chiân did not have the energy to point out the astonishing double-think of considering non-magical humans a different ‘kind’ but not literal non-human magical beings. She returned Vessy’s hug and climbed into the very comfortable guest bed.

She dreamt of flying in the darkness, and of a man with respect in his eyes.

The next morning she breakfasted with the rest, rueful that she was not going to be able to say goodbye to Baba before she left the Willoughby estate.

She chose to leave at the same time as Benji, Colby, and May. The other three were returning to their homes via floo powder. Chiân’s first train wasn’t until two o’clock that afternoon, but it seemed as good a time as any to embark upon her walk back to the village.

The others waved her goodbye at the front of the enormous house, hollering that they would see her in a matter of days in King’s Cross station.

As she walked down the path she heard a keening cry from the sky above her. A huge bird was circling in the air, its wingspan sweeping light shadow across Chiân’s face. She slowed and raised an arm to it in greeting.

It gave another caw and very carefully, with much flapping, landed its huge talons on her arm. They dug in slightly, but Chiân didn’t mind the pain.

She heard the murmurs of her friends behind her and turned, holding the huge bird. Most of them were pointing and looking impressed or unnerved. Vessy’s face was utterly white with shock.

Chiân laughed, and looked the bird in the eye.

“Bye, Baba. It was nice to meet you.”

The bird looked unblinkingly at her with a round, piercing eye. Chiân lifted a finger and touched its head gently. It closed its eyes and cawed softly.

Then quite suddenly, and with a painful dig into Chiân’s skin, it took off again, and soared back up into the sunlight.

Chiân did not turn around again as she left the grounds. As soon as she exited the gate she knew the house and finely-kept gardens would vanish from sight behind her, but she felt no need to check.

As soon as the bus journey took her back into consistent phone signal she turned on her mobile and started to text Asher about her extremely interesting weekend.

Chiân got home that evening at about the same time as her father. He hugged her tightly and asked her about the weekend. She chatted with him happily for an hour or so before her mother got home. She did not mention Baba Buku to either of them, but she did have a good conversation with her dad about the bewildering traditions of blood crossing.

“It’s an old prejudice, Chiâny”, he had said looking tired. “Don’t listen to it. I mean, you know what I think about muggles.”

“What do you mean?” Chiân had asked.

“I think they’re pretty fine,” he had jested, waggling his eyebrows in a way which made Chiân go ‘ew’ and laugh at him.

“Yeah but, they would rather marry non-humans than non-magic people, how does that make any sense at all?”

“It doesn’t,” he agreed. “I mean it’s not like it’s bestiality – they’re talking about humanoid magical beings who are basically just very magic human races.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No, you’re right – as soon as you start believing that they are more human than muggles then you’re in trouble.”

Chiân was deeply relieved to hear her father articulate this. It was the balance she had been trying to find all weekend in her head.

“Speaking of humanoid beings,” said her father with a strange look. “We had a visitor this weekend.”

Chiân had no idea where this was going. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your friend with the antlers.” Her dad’s expression was one of utmost bemusement. Chiân burst out laughing.

“Pretoria was here?”

“Yes, she apparated into our backyard. Nearly gave your mother a heart-attack.”

Chiân rolled around on the sofa, giggling at the thought. Her dad smiled a little at her mirth. “What did she want? Did she say?”

“Well, we told her that you were visiting a friend, and she said to tell you that ‘Petrarch was being a dumbass’, and that she and Sam were sorry for not writing, but they would tell you everything on the train.” He looked at Chiân as if waiting for her interpretation of this cryptic message.

“Oh, _good_ ,” said Chiân, too relieved to have finally heard from them to worry about explaining this to her dad. “Um, it’s nothing. We just wanted to ask Professor Petrarch – um, the headmaster – about something but it seemed like he was taking ages to reply.”

Her dad gave her a suspicious look which cut right through Chiân’s vague explanation.

“Uh, did you tell her when I’d be back?” she said quickly.

“Yeah, but she said she’d just see you on the train,” her dad shrugged, but their mother arrived before he could question her more.

After this conversation Chiân was more impatient than ever for September the 1st to come around. It looked like Pretoria must have passed her apparition test okay and Chiân couldn’t think why she didn’t simply pop back in now that she was home and tell her what was going on with the basilisk they had accidentally unleashed.

A school letter detailing the spellbooks and equipment she would need for the year had also appeared during her weekend at Vessy’s house, so Chiân made arrangements that Thursday to meet up with Asher and Tiff and head to Diagon Alley.

It was a much more enjoyable trip than the one she had taken her previous year, alone and frightened at the very thought of magic and wands. The two Gryffindors were extremely keen to hear all the details of her weekend at Vessy’s, and Chiân was all too keen to fill them in.

They saw a lot of other Hogwarts students during their shopping, including Benji and Kyril, who came over to say hi as they all bought their potions ingredients.

“Hey guys,”

“Hey!”

“Oh hey, Kyril! Long time no see, Benji,” said Chiân to the boys. Benji grinned. “Kyril, how come you weren’t at Vessy’s?”

Kyril raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I live in Singapore, Firebug. You didn’t know that?”

“Oh, well, that would be a reasonable excuse,” she said. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, got back on Tuesday,” he said.

“Can’t you just floo powder over?” asked Tiff.

Kyril looked equally surprised at this suggestion. “You can’t travel internationally by floo powder or apparition.”

“Well, you can try, but you’d get caught,” chuckled Benji. “Hey, we’re gonna go get some ice cream after this. Wanna come?”

They agreed and the five of them enjoyed picking out the horrendously off-the-wall flavours available to them in the crowded little ice cream parlour.

Chiân had thought about maybe popping back into Warlock and Wiseman to see the man who had made her wand for her, but she couldn’t see a polite way of ditching her friends, and she didn’t really want to retell that particular story. She had not told anybody in the world that Wiseman had made her wand right there in front of her. It felt oddly significant that her wand contained not a strand of some magical creature but of her own hair, but she wasn’t about to parade this fact until she was sure what it meant.

Considering how excruciatingly slow the beginning of the summer had felt, the 1st of September came around very quickly.

Chiân’s parents had been desperate to get time off and accompany her to King’s Cross, but had not managed it. Chiân made sure she got up in time to give them each a hug before they left for work. Her mother burst into tears, clutching her desperately for an uncomfortable moment, but then it was time for them all to leave.

Her dad drove her to the tube station, also getting a little misty eyed and insisting that Chiân send an owl every other day. Chiân tried to look as though she would miss being at home, but clearly wasn’t fooling him.

He wished her a good term, suggesting again that he might try to get tickets for the tournament that was happening that year, though they both knew they would be too few and too expensive for her family.

Chiân got onto the train at half past seven, once more dragging a cumbersome suitcase along with her on the tube. She made the most of her last morning with a functional phone to blast the greatest hits of Queen as she travelled. She couldn’t stop grinning.

She arrived in King’s Cross two hours early, surrounded by people of every shape and size cramming past each other to get to every corner of the globe.

A sense of travel, of excitement, and of great anticipation settled into her gut as she waited for her turn to pass through the ticket barriers. She had not realised last year that the ticket in her letter would get her through the muggle system, but Asher had told her about it last year, laughing unnecessarily hard when she had told him about having to kick in the barriers.

She trundled along the end of the platforms, looking for the numbers. She could see the occasional familiar face amidst the grey commuters, and even the odd owl hooting from a cage as it was pushed down between the seething, dormant trains.

Chiân was still too early to have any kind of queue to get through the barrier. She gave a furtive glance around before stepping through, checking that no eyes were upon her.

She moved through to platform nine and three quarters smoothly, suitcase dragging against the ground.

There before her, its handsome red engine gleaming through the smoke, was the Hogwarts Express, ready and waiting to be boarded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-five-fight-and-flight?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	6. The Express and the Inexpressible

Chiân had been sat alone in a compartment for nearly an hour before anybody spoke to her. She was absently browsing through her _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2_ when the door rattled open.

“Firebug!” It was Kaitlin, now a fourth year Slytherin. Chiân chatted to her for a few minutes about how her summer had been, swapping excitement about the Triwizard Tournament that would be happening that year.

Kaitlin had only been gone for maybe thirty seconds when May, Asher’s older sister, opened the door to say hi briefly, telling her that Asher was somewhere with Max and Tiffany.

Chiân was just thinking of going to find them when something thumped the glass beside her. She turned to glare at whatever it was and found a familiar face grinning at her through the window.

“Pretoria!” Chiân scrambled up onto the seat and stuck her head out of the narrow opening at the top of the window. “Hey!”

“Hey, Firebug,” she grinned her delightfully familiar grin. Chiân’s heart swelled. “Been a while.”

“Yeah – you owe me some updates, you prat,” said Chiân, beaming at her.

“Oh god, I know. It’s been unbelievable-“

She was cut off as Sam appeared at her side, shouting an excited hello to Chiân through the window.

“We’ll come find you in a minute, hang on – stay there,” said Pretoria, and a few minutes later the compartment door opened and they came in, each with several cases which Chiân helped them to stow in the racks.

There was still at least forty minutes before the train was due to leave, but already students were milling around the corridors of the train. Chiân pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it at the door, pushing it closed.

Pretoria eyed her as she sat down. “You’re kind of freakish, you know that?”

“Why?” said Chiân, surprised.

“We only started working on non-verbal spells last year,” said Sam as she kicked off her shoes, swinging her feet up onto the seats and lying down with her head in Pretoria’s lap. “And here you are at what, like ten years old? Doing them without thinking about it.”

Chiân ignored this, though felt secretly pleased. “Right. What’s been going on with Petrarch? How come you turned up at my house last week but couldn’t come back when I was actually there? Have they found the basilisk? Haven’t they?”

Pretoria laid her head back, antlers looking handsome atop her closely shaven head. “Okay, so literally the same evening we got back we sent an owl to Professor Petrarch.”

“What did you say?”

Sam answered, a half-grin on her half-face. “Oh, you know – ‘how are you’, ‘what’s the weather like up there’, ‘by the way we’ve just realised that the hatching basilisk egg we unfroze in the vaults we weren’t supposed to break into may not have been killed after all by the cursed fire we accidentally unleashed and there’s a chance you have a deadly snake mooching around the castle’, ‘wish you were here’.”

Pretoria and Chiân laughed. Demi Bridges, another Slytherin now in seventh year, rapped on the glass and gave them a wave as she walked past.

“So what did he say back?”

“Well firstly, the man took his bloody time replying,” said Pretoria.

“Yeah, we were strongly considering sending a second letter after two weeks,” added Sam.

“But eventually he replies, and he basically says ‘thanks for the letter, I’ll alert the Bruchs, and have a nice summer’ – yeah, exactly,” said Pretoria in response to Chiân’s look of disbelief.

“And so we send him another letter saying ‘okay, let us know please when you’ve found the thing, because we’re all a bit, y’know’,” Sam waved a hand vaguely.

“Shitting ourselves,” said Pretoria. “And it’s another week before he replies – we’re kind of waiting at this point to actually have something to report back to you and the others, because so far he’s said a steaming hot pile of nothing.”

“Fair enough. Go on,” said Chiân, copying Sam and taking off her roller-boots so she could curl up on the seat.

“This next letter says, in short, ‘the Bruchs found it, it’s dead, in fact it’s a skeleton, and we found it like two months ago, don’t worry’, which – yeah, is weird. And then Sam remembers that one of the other orb thingies from the vault contained a giant skeleton-“

“Oh my god, yeah,” said Chiân, interrupting again. “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

“Yeah, so we write back _again_ , like ‘not to be rude or anything but we just want to double check that that wasn’t the other gigantic snake skeleton we also accidentally released in the vault, because we’re not basilisk experts or anything but we were kind of thinking it would probably be a bit smaller-‘”

“Not to mention alive,” added Sam.

Pretoria smirked. “And this time he writes back immediately.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, exactly. And now he seems to be getting it, so it’s this super official letter – very short – that basically summons us back up to the school. I know! In the summer!” Pretoria sounded outraged.

“Did you go?”

“Had to. The ministry arranged a Portkey and everything because Pret hadn’t passed her Apparition test yet-“

Chiân interrupted Sam. “Wait, when was this?”

“About,” Pretoria thought for a second. “Two weeks ago. So we take this Portkey together, and have this meeting with the Bruchs and Petrarch and Meyerbeer and two representatives from the department for the control and regulation of magical creatures, where they ask us about everything. They gave us total amnesty on our adventures into the archives so that they can work out exactly what happened – don’t worry, that amnesty extends to the rest of you as well.”

“Oh thank god. Was this meeting at school?”

Pretoria shook her head. “Hogsmeade. We had it in the Three Broomsticks, actually. I’ve never been in there when it wasn’t rammed full of students.”

“Yeah, it was weird,” said Sam. “We met in one of the private rooms at the top of the pub.”

“Yeah, so one of the big questions was whether they postpone everyone’s return to school so that they can conduct a proper search for it, but there’s massive concern because this year there’s going to be-“

“The Tournament!” said Chiân, understanding.

“Exactly. It’s a fucking huge deal hosting the Triwizard Tournament and I’ll bet it’s the only thing anyone from the Ministry has worked on for like two years now, so they’re hardly about to just put that on hold.” Pretoria glowered a little as she spoke. “So their solution, and you’re not gonna believe this-“

“Oh god, it’s so stupid,” said Sam, sitting up as if too indignant to take it lying down.

“We had to sign an official injunction not to mention it to anyone-“

“What?” said Chiân, quite loudly. Some students on the platform looked around at the window.

Both of them were nodding at her. “We are legally and magically bound to not tell anyone there’s a giant snake escaped in the castle.”

“You are kidding me,” Chiân stared at them.

Sam shook her head. “They’re gonna make you sign as well, and the others who were with us in the vault, as soon as you get up to the castle.”

“Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you were already under the injunction, seeing as we’re having this conversation right now.”

“So wait, all seven of us are gonna be, like magically silenced?”

“Yep,” said Pretoria, commiserating with the rampant disbelief on Chiân’s face.

“Becky wrote to us last week to ask what was going on, and it was the weirdest fucking thing. I tried and tried to write a letter back but it was two days after the stupid meeting and I literally just kept writing about other shit like the weather. Like I literally could not write it down,” said Sam, shaking her head.

“So that’s why you Apparated to my house last week instead of writing to me?” Chiân said to Pretoria.

She grinned. “Yes. Also because I had just passed my test and I was enjoying myself. But yes, we can’t put anything in writing, or say it in front of anyone who isn’t part of the injunction.”

“Let me get this straight. There is a baby basilisk loose in the castle, which is my fault-“

“ _Our_ fault,” corrected Sam, but Chiân ignored her.

“-and instead of like, I don’t know, warning everybody, or not letting anyone back into Hogwarts until they’ve found it, they’re silencing anybody who could raise the alarm, and then letting several hundred kids come back and live in said castle? Am I going insane?”

“No, it’s completely fucking ridiculous,” said Sam, looking quite serious. “I mean, obviously they’ve had people searching the castle, and they said in the meeting that they were utterly confident that it wasn’t anywhere in the main castle, but they can’t be sure of the grounds, and the castle itself is so massive and so full of like, secret chambers and passages-“

“Holy shit, what if it’s in the Chamber of Secrets?” said Pretoria excitedly, turning to Sam. “They wouldn’t have been able to find that and search it, would they?”

The train beneath them roared into life. It was twenty minutes before eleven.

“I mean, no they wouldn’t be able to find it,” said Sam thoughtfully. “And it would make sense, I guess. The original monster of Slytherin was a basilisk, after all.”

“Yeah, it was-“

“Sorry, the what? What are you talking about?” said Chiân.

“You know the stories about the Chamber of Secrets?” said Sam, turning to her.

Chiân scoffed. “Don’t tell me. First a ‘Secret Library of Fire’ – now, what, another giant vault but full of snakes this time?”

Pretoria laughed. “Close.”

They told her yet another story about Harry Potter and how at only twelve years old he had defeated a basilisk with a sword after it had petrified half the school. Apparently the evil He Who Must Not Be Named wizard Chiân had heard about had possessed Potter’s girlfriend and used her to open a secret Chamber where the basilisk lived.

“He must have been a busy man,” said Chiân, thinking of all the many stories which swirled around the life of the famous wizard.

“Massively. But yeah, it’s basically this secret underground part of Hogwarts that Salazar Slytherin himself built and hid way back when.”

“And it’s full of basilisks, just, like, hanging out?”

Sam smirked. “Not exactly.”

“You know how Slytherin was a Parseltongue?” said Pretoria.

“Parselmouth,” corrected Sam. “The language is Parseltongue. Means you can talk to snakes,” she added for Chiân’s benefit.

“Yeah, so I guess he had like, a pet one which he could control because he could speak to it, and it lived in the chamber of secrets,” mused Pretoria.

“Salazar Slytherin had a pet basilisk?” said Chiân, sounding extremely doubtful.

“So it goes,” Pretoria shrugged. “It was called Slytherin’s monster, and like, that’s why our house mascot is a snake and stuff. The original legend was that the ‘heir of Slytherin’, she made quotation marks with her fingers, “would be able to find the Chamber and like, reawaken the basilisk and stuff and use it to rid the school of Muggle-borns. That’s what happened the other two times it got opened.”

“The first time with You Know Who, and then the time when he possessed the girl through the book-thing?” Chiân checked she had her facts right.

Pretoria was nodding, but as she opened her mouth the door slid open.

“Hey, Firebug, hey guys.” It was two sixth year Slytherin girls named Darcy Marlight and Ariella McIlwain. They nodded to Chiân then turned their attention to the other two.

“We’re making an inventory for libation week. How much have you guys got?” asked Darcy.

Pretoria lifted her backpack which was on the floor at her feet. “Four bottles.”

“All transfigured?”

“Yup. And Sam’s got some gin in her case.”

“Great,” said Ariella. “Paul and Ellen have a whole case of fire whiskey-“

“They’ve turned it into a gobstones set,” Darcy sounded impressed.

“Nice,” Pretoria said, and the two girls left. She looked back at Chiân. “Gotta bring provisions. Funnily enough the house elves don’t tend to stock up much on vodka.”

“Or tequila,” said Sam lazily, lying back in Pretoria’s lap.

Chiân wanted to get back to discussing basilisks and hidden chambers, but as it neared eleven the stream of students popping in to greet them became almost constant. Most of the Slytherin Quidditch team came by at some point to ask whether Pretoria had been made captain, which she had indeed. A lot of second years from all houses waved to Chiân, casting furtive glances at Pretoria and Sam.

Keira Wellington, a Hufflepuff Chiân knew from last year’s Herbology class, had made eye contact with Pretoria and actually shrieked, running off in a giggle with the other girls around her. Pretoria’s contempt had been heavy and very funny to behold.

“To be fair, you two do look pretty intimidating,” said Chiân once she’d stopped laughing at Pretoria’s expression. Sam’s hair was still bright pink, which made the white and red patches of her burn stand out. Pretoria had a nose ring, a buzzcut, and antlers.

Sam grinned where she lay, and Pretoria opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by yet another person pulling open the compartment door.

“Greetings, lesbians!” sang a voice. “And you, Firebug. Unless you’re also a lesbian, which, fair play – you do you.”

“Ozzy!” Chiân leapt to her feet, laughing, to give him a hug. He grinned, slapping Sam and Pretoria’s extended hands of greeting as he sat.

“Are you on time for once? Or are we literally about to leave?” said Sam. At that exact moment the train gave a groaning heave and began to move out of the station. All of them laughed.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” said Pretoria.

Ozzy chuckled. “No idea. Literally just got on the train.”

“Course you did.”

“Hey, what’s going on with the snake? Do we know?” he said, looking as serious as he could probably manage, which was not very.

“Yes, but I’m not repeating it every time one of you Gryffindors comes wandering in. If you can find the others we’ll fill you in.”

Ozzy gave a dramatic sigh and made to get up.

“No, wait, I can’t be faffed with a repeat of the last time we all tried to find each other on this train,” said Chiân, getting up and moving to the doorway. The train was picking up speed now, having made it out into the open air.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked, curious.

Chiân pulled out her wand, looking up and down the corridor. She hadn’t done this before, but it didn’t take too much imagination to work out the shape of the spell she needed.

She raised her wand and pictured Becky, Theo, and Asher very clearly in her mind, reaching out through the wand. She felt a very faint pull into two different places, and said to the wand “Hey guys, it’s Chiân. Could you come here please?” She allowed the words to congeal in the magic and then made them soar off in a trail of sparks.

Satisfied, she sat down.

“What did you just do?” said Ozzy, looking at her.

“Just getting the others.”

“What spell was that?” said Sam.

Chiân shrugged. “It wasn’t really a spell. I just used the magic to work out where they were, then sent them my voice so they’d come here.”

All three students looked at her for a moment.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete freak of nature?” said Ozzy mildly.

“Yes. Recently, in fact,” said Chiân.

A few minutes later Becky and Asher appeared. They had barely finished asking how on earth Chiân had broadcast her voice into their respective compartments when Theo arrived. He and Ozzy jumped on each other in a show of delighted greeting which made Chiân fondly recall a very similar journey exactly a year before.

Pretoria and Sam filled them all in, telling them the same events they had recounted to Chiân.

Becky looked outraged. “They get that this is a _basilisk_ , right? Like, it has death-ray eyes that kill you instantly?” she said, her eyes bugging out of her face.

“Apparently not,” said Theo. He was sat in Ozzy’s lap, and Ozzy had his arms wrapped around his waist.

“Not to mention being extremely venomous and bloodthirsty,” said Ozzy cheerfully from behind Theo.

“And probably the size of an entire herd of cows by now,” Theo added.

“This is completely unacceptable,” said Becky. “You said we’re gonna have to sign this injunction as well?”

Sam answered with a sigh. “Yeah, but we’re pretty sure you’re already under it. Like, all of your names were written up when we signed, and we can still talk about it with you now, so I think it’s definitely too late to refuse.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna fucking sue them,” said Becky, looking murderous. “Is there any way to be sure? I kinda wanna go up and down the train and warn everybody now before we get there.”

Becky decided to test the injunction and opened the compartment door to call to a girl who had just passed. “Phoebe, could you come here for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure,” said the girl, who Chiân recognised as a Gryffindor fifth year.

The strangest thing was happening. Becky was asking Phoebe about her summer, an impatient frown on her face. Then she told her that she was looking forward to getting to the castle. Phoebe said that she was excited about the Triwizard Tournament, and Becky agreed, lamenting with her that it was sad they weren’t quite old enough to enter. Phoebe asked her when she would be turning seventeen and Becky said not til March.

The others watched, trying not to make it weird for Phoebe, but Chiân could tell that the same thing was going on in their own minds. Chiân kept opening her mouth to interject with something about the basilisk, but as soon as she went to speak she found that it was more important in that moment to agree with something Becky was saying, or to complement Phoebe on her Panic! At the Disco t-shirt. Then there would follow a strange moment in which Chiân tried to remember what it was she had intended to say, and then it repeated.

Eventually Phoebe said “um, was there something in particular you wanted?” she looked around at the others furtively.

Becky looked strained for a second, then sighed. “No. Thanks, you can go now.”

Phoebe looked a little bemused, but bade them all farewell with a smile and left the compartment. Becky deflated, her frown returning tenfold.

“Well,” said Theo.

“That is some bullshit,” said Becky.

They all agreed, checking with each other that they had all been experiencing the same strange mental diversion. It reminded Chiân a little bit of the feeling of having her eyes controlled by Bukuroshe, but instead of her vision it was her train of thought. She did not share this observation with the others.

“So what are we gonna do about this then?” said Sam, summoning them all back to the issue.

Chiân felt grateful all over again for her crew of gung-ho friends. Asher caught her eye and grinned as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Pretoria was putting forward her theory that, based on the fact that nobody had been able to locate the beast yet, it might be hiding in the Chamber of Secrets.

Ozzy protested that there was no reason it would be lurking in this specific mysterious hidey-hole when Hogwarts was so full of mysterious hidey-holes, making Theo chuckle. Sam pointed out that it wasn’t like the teachers had been looking for the basilisk by wandering around and peering under cabinets.

“They’re using detection charms and shit, obviously.” Sam rolled her one good eye, but grinned.

“In which case there’s actually some merit to the secret chamber theory,” said Becky thoughtfully. “Because it’s supposed to be super hidden, right? So it’s probably undetectable even with magic and really well-concealed.”

“And if it’s decided it’s gonna live in there then it’s not like it’s roaming around endangering the school, is it?” said Theo.

“No, I guess not,” said Becky slowly.

“Look,” said Chiân, sitting forward in her seat. “That’s clearly what they’re betting on as well, and to be honest we may as well trust that. I doubt they’d let any of us come back to the castle unless they were pretty sure it was at least hiding in some inaccessible pit.”

The others agreed.

“So we leave it for now?” said Sam, looking around. Everyone was exchanging glances. Chiân thought she recognised some of the uncomfortable shifting from her own uneasiness, but there was really nothing for it.

“I think that’s the best plan,” Chiân said at last. “It’s not like we’re shirking responsibility for it. We let them know it was loose, we’ve signed – or will sign – the stupid injunction, and we’ll be on the lookout for giant murderous snakes. But if it is in hiding then we don’t need to go looking for it.”

They all eventually agreed, though Ozzy grumbled a little bit about not having an excuse to go looking for the Chamber of Secrets.

Pretoria smirked at him. “You better believe we spent about three years looking for it, Ziento. I’d be impressed if you found it in one. We still haven’t.”

“I doubt there’s a single Slytherin student who hasn’t tried to find it at some point,” said Sam, chuckling.

“As have most of the Gryffindors,” said Becky humorously.

“But isn’t the entrance in a bathroom?” Asher asked them.

“Used to be,” Sam shrugged. “Not anymore. Obviously they destroyed that entrance so that nobody else could use it.”

“What, so you can’t even get into it anymore?” said Ozzy, sounding disappointed.

“Oh, I bet you can still get in. It’s supposed to be the most heavily enchanted place in the castle, isn’t it? It probably grew a new passageway or something,” said Pretoria airily. “The question is where.”

Once they had exhausted these speculations, talk turned, inevitably, to the Triwizard Tournament. Theo was the only one of the three Gryffindor sixth years who would be seventeen in time to enter, which made Ozzy look even grumpier. Pretoria was planning to enter, which surprised nobody, and Sam was decidedly not, which also surprised nobody.

Asher turned to Chiân and suggested that they go find some of the other second years. Chiân agreed, thinking that Vessy and Lydia would both be insulted if she didn’t find them on the train.

They met Demi and Ellen in the corridor and Chiân pointed them back to the compartment where Pretoria and Sam were sat, discussing one of the other participating schools, called ‘Durmstrang’ or something.

“How are you feeling about the fact that there’s a ginormous deadly snake running around the castle we’re about to live in for a year?” Chiân asked Asher.

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m with Oz.”

“What do you mean?” Chiân was behind him in the narrow corridor, but he turned to grin at her as he answered.

“Just bummed that we don’t have an excuse to go looking for the Chamber of Secrets.”

Chiân grinned back. “We could find it, I bet you.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They both laughed, and then heard their names being called. They had been spotted by the Ravenclaws. They joined Colby, Zach, May, Jonathan Belford and girl called Freida Jaiteja whom Chiân did not know so well. Vessy, Lydia, Calix and Egan found them a little while later, and Asher went off to rejoin the Gryffindors.

Chiân sat on the floor of the slightly overcrowded carriage, eating the cauldron cakes they had all bought from the lunch trolley, joining in the gossip about the tournament which was already blossoming into fantastical rumour.

As the afternoon, speeding by the windows of the train, turned into a breezy evening, Chiân made her way back to the other compartment to change into her school robes. The Gryffindors had gone and Pretoria and Sam were now joined by most of the other Slytherin seventh years. Chiân greeted them all and Paul jumped out of the way so that she could pull her case down.

“Oh, this is for you,” said Pretoria, handing her a scroll and giving her a meaningful look. “Humphries dropped it off.”

“Who?” said Chiân, taking it.

“Emmeline Humphries – new head girl,” said Ellen from the corner.

“Nice, thanks. Hey, see you guys in a bit,” Chiân said, pulling her case out into the corridor.

“See ya, Firebug.”

“Bye.”

Chiân made her way with some effort to one of the gaps between the carriages to pull her robes over her t-shirt and jeans, ignoring a passing swarm of nervously giggling first years.

She sat down on her case in the rattling vestibule and unfurled the scroll.

_“To Chiân Maeroris, Slytherin, Second year,_

_Upon your arrival at the castle please make your way immediately to the office of Professor Wexel, your head of house, for a brief meeting. You will not miss the feast._

_Sincerely, E._ _Bruch.”_

It looked like Pretoria had been right.

“Well,” Chiân said into the noise of the train. “This ought to be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-six-the-express-and?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	7. Injunctions and Compunctions

It was raining lightly when the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Chiân had not bothered to move back down to the other second years, so she alighted alone into the crowds of students, leaving her case to be carried up to the castle separately.

She could hear Penny Pemberton, the school counsellor, calling for the first years. She could also hear someone calling her name. She turned and saw Becky and her friend Hannah pushing towards her.

“Hey, Firebug. You got one too?” Becky waved a scroll at her, narrowly avoiding hitting a wide-eyed kid who looked about eight as he scurried past.

“Yeah, gotta go see Professor Wexel right away.”

“Me too,” said Becky. Hannah looked curiously between them.

“Not Professor Chancery?” said Chiân, surprised. Professor Chancery was head of Gryffindor house, as well as the infamously mystical divination teacher.

“Nah. She does the sorting, doesn’t she?”

Chiân spotted Asher waving to her from down by the carriages and she went over to him, telling Becky she’d see her up at the castle.

Asher also had a scroll, and they exchanged a look as they climbed into a carriage with some of the other second years.

The thestrals pulled them up through the grey sheets of rain that were coming down harder now. The students were making a mad dash up the steps into the Entrance Hall, shrieking and laughing, some with their robes pulled up over their heads.

Vessy, Lydia and Egan accosted her as soon as she was inside.

“Where did you disappear to?” Vess sounded annoyed.

Chiân held up the slightly sodden scroll still clutched in her hand. “Sorry – didn’t mean to abandon you. I’ve gotta go see Professor Wexel.”

“What? Why?” said Lydia, incredulous.

“Um, it’s about the… weather…” said Chiân vaguely, finding once more that she had forgotten what she was going to say.

Lydia raised a sceptical eyebrow. “What about the weather?”

“How nice it is”, said Chiân flatly.

Lydia was glaring at her and Vessy looked a little insulted.

“If you don’t want to tell us, just say,” said Lydia, and Egan pulled her arm impatiently to file into the hall with the others.

“It’s not my fault!” Chiân retorted. “We’ve got to,” she gestured at herself and Asher, who was hovering behind her.

“Oh, you can tell him but not us?” said Vessy.

“C’mon,” said Asher before Chiân could respond, and she reluctantly turned to leave with him.

“Fine, go sit with the Gryffindors then,” snapped Vessy.

Chiân watched her storm off after the other two. “That’s gonna be a problem,” she muttered.

“We can worry about that later,” said Asher, though he also sounded a little glum. Chiân was sure he was also wondering just how much of a pain in the neck this injunction was going to be.

Professor Wexel was stood at the far side of the entrance hall, accompanied by Mrs Bruch and a stocky, officious looking wizard Chiân didn’t recognise. Becky, Theo and Ozzy were already there. Chiân glanced over her shoulder into the emptying entrance hall, realising ruefully that they were going to miss the sorting. She noticed that Pretoria and Sam were hanging back, watching them. Pretoria raised a hand and gave her a wave which Chiân understood to mean that they would wait for her. She smiled gratefully.

They followed the three adults down to Wexel’s office in the dungeons.

None of the five students said anything as the officious wizard introduced himself as a representative from the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures, from the Ministry of Magic. Nor did any of them look surprised as they stood in Professor Wexel’s office and listened to his explanation of the injunction they were about to be asked to sign.

Resigning herself to having to put up with Vessy and Lydia being irritated with her silence, Chiân stepped forward to sign first.

Becky was the only one who resisted. She hung back til the other four had signed and then crossed her arms. She looked straight at Mrs Bruch, who was stony-faced and unreadable.

“Are you positive that nobody is in danger?” she said, and Chiân could hear the quiet stubbornness in her voice.

“Please be assured, Miss Stormwright,” said the Ministry wizard, “that we are taking every possible step to ensure the continued safety of the school-“

“But you’re not actively looking for the basilisk?” Becky interrupted him. Professor Wexel was scowling at her.

The man seemed to pause. “No, it is not a priority right now.”

Chiân was not the only one who made an incredulous face.

Becky opened her mouth to speak again but Mrs Bruch interrupted her with her low, booming voice. “We are adept at defending the castle. You are in no danger.” Chiân had not had many dealings with the Bruchs, excluding the occasional near-miss during a night-time wander through the corridors. She was an imposing, strangely serious woman. Chiân wondered absently if she was entirely human.

“And how far does the injunction go?” asked Asher.

“What do you mean?” asked the Ministry wizard.

“I mean, like, we could tell our friends that we had to come down here, but we couldn’t tell them why.” Chiân had an idea as he spoke, and plunged her hands into her robe for her wand, trying to keep the motion discreet. “Say something happens and like, someone gets attacked or something. If someone directly asks us if we know anything about a giant snake moving around the castle can we even answer? Or will we just have to lie?”

The wizard was looking sniffy. “In that unlikely event, we will of course release the injunction. But until we lift the enchantment you will not be able to engage in any kind of conversation – even, indeed, a direct question.” Chiân gripped her wand, focusing.

“Well, that’s super,” said Ozzy sarcastically. The wizard ignored him.

“Do you have any questions, Chiân?” Professor Wexel was looking at her with some consternation. Chiân hastily dropped the intense look of concentration that was screwing up her face.

“No, sir. Just, uh, feeling bad about all this.” She nodded at the paper.

The ministry official started to say something but Wexel cut across him. “You don’t need to feel guilty, Miss Maeroris. The Ministry may disagree, but our headmaster feels you have all been punished enough for the events of last spring.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Chiân quietly, trying not to look like she was enjoying the ministry wizard’s look of indignant dissent at these words.

Becky finally agreed to sign, grumbling that it wasn’t like any of them had really had a choice, and then they all followed Wexel and the wizard out of the office. Mrs Bruch brought up the rear, closing the door behind them.

Chiân was concentrating hard, gripping her wand in her hand. It had been extremely difficult, no doubt due to the injunction, but she thought that maybe she might _just_ have managed to capture some of what had been said down in the dungeon. Like the words she had sent along the train carriage earlier, a snatch of the conversation in Wexel’s office was sparking and letting off a slight heat under her clenched fingers.

Hopefully, if she could hold it for long enough, she might be able to let Lydia and Vessy hear it, and that might be enough to assuage them. Capturing the sounds and words in a sort of magical imprint was evidently an indirect enough way to access the issue of the basilisk, but it remained to be seen whether her friends would be able to listen to those words or if the injunction would win out.

Pretoria and Sam were still in the entrance hall. Chiân saw Professor Wexel roll his eyes at the sight of the two seventh years, and then turn to the ministry wizard to ask if he was planning to stay for the feast. The wizard excused himself, saying he should return to the office with the signed document, and Mrs Bruch walked with him through the front doors and into the rain beyond.

The charms teacher pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, which was full of the noise of hundreds of hungry teenagers tucking into a glorious spread of food. The noise dipped a little as they entered behind Wexel.

The Gryffindors headed towards their table, Asher giving Chiân a quick smile as he moved down to the other second years. The Slytherin table was at the far end of the hall. Chiân could feel a lot of people looking up at her as she made her way along the front of the staff table, Pretoria and Sam walking just behind her like a pair of bodyguards.

She could see a smattering of new, very young faces in the hall – as usual there were fewer of them on the Slytherin table than there were on the others. Chiân returned Pretoria’s hand-slap and moved further down towards where Lydia and Vessy were sat with the other second years. She pulled her wand out of her robes as she slid into a gap between Vessy and Kyril.

“You gonna tell us what that was about? Or just cut us out as usual?” said Lydia immediately. Vessy looked sulky.

Chiân’s teeth were clenched. She could feel the wand in her hand vibrating a little as it held the imprint of that moment in Professor Wexel’s office. She definitely wouldn’t be able to hold it through the duration of the whole feast, Petrarch’s start-of-term speech, and then the walk back to the dungeons. Thinking quickly she looked around at the table, not answering Lydia’s annoyed objections to being ignored.

There was a goblet in front of her but it was already filled with water. “Can you pass me that jug,” Chiân said to Vessy, nodding to a mostly empty jug of pumpkin juice.

Vessy glanced at it, then stuck her chin in the air. “Not until you tell us what’s going on.”

“Oh my god, I’m _trying-“_ Chiân stood up and grabbed the jug herself, leaning across Vessy rather rudely to reach it. She tipped the remaining juice onto her plate, to many bemused stares, and in a quick motion released the imprint of sound into the emptied jug. She muttered the same sealing charm that had encased the artefacts in the vaults, covering the top of the jug. The jug hovered in the air, a silver film trapping the words within it. Chiân moved her wand again and the whole thing shrank until it fit in her palm. She raised her wand and caught the miniature jug, tucking both away in her pocket.

Vessy and Lydia forgot their annoyance, gaping at this rather rapid display of spellwork.

Very pointedly, Chiân looked at both of them in turn and said in a calm voice, “I will tell you _later_.”

Lydia grunted, and Vessy stared for another moment before deciding that this was acceptable. She smiled at Chiân, satisfied, and began to offer her food.

Chiân leant around Kyril to Dreya, who was a few seats down from her. “Hey, Dreya, what’s the charm for vanishing stuff?”

Dreya called the incantation down to her and Chiân thanked her, promptly vanishing the pumpkin juice from her plate so that she could eat.

“So, who are the new first years?” she asked Lydia through a mouthful of roast parsnip.

“I’ve already forgotten their names, but there were about eight of them sorted into Slytherin, I think.”

“And about twenty into Gryffindor,” Vessy rolled her eyes.

“Oh yeah, and that kid your parents mentioned the other week,” Lydia added, nodding to Vessy.

“Oh, Monty? Yeah, he’s here somewhere,” she peered down the table. Chiân looked too. The new first years were all sat together, distracted from their food by the arrival of the ghosts. “There was one called Olivia, Michelle or something, can’t remember the boys.”

Chiân watched one of the first year girls with shiny brown plaits cast a nervous look down at Pretoria, who was cackling at some story Davey Heimermann-Priest was telling. Chiân smirked a little.

Calix had leant in to join the conversation. “D’you think there’s gonna be another libation week?” he looked eager.

“Definitely,” said Chiân, telling him about the exchanges she had witnessed on the train between the sixth and seventh years, smuggling alcohol into the castle.

“Oh my god, I’m going to get absolutely wasted,” said Vessy excitedly.

Chiân rolled her eyes at her. “Vess, we’re like twelve.”

“Yeah, but if they have tequila,” she gave a mischievous grin, tossing her hair impressively.

Chiân didn’t bother asking her in front of Calix whether she had ever actually drunk tequila. Vessy had a tendency to exaggerate a curious selection of traits in front of boys, including an entirely falsified history of very underage drinking.

“Did they say anything about whether they were gonna enter the tournament?” Lydia asked Chiân. Kyril, Benji, and Egan also turned to listen in.

“Pret’s going to. Sam’s not. I don’t know about anyone else,” she shrugged. The plates were clearing, which meant that dessert would soon be coming. Chiân took a swig of water from the pre-filled goblet which had forced her to dump pumpkin juice on her plate.

“You know that black guy from Hufflepuff? He’s entering,” said Calix excitedly.

“Which black guy? There are like, five of them,” said Egan as if this was a boggling number.

Chiân threw him an amused look. “They’re doing better than us then,” she gestured down the very anaemic line of the predominantly white Slytherin table. “What is it about being the racist house which means we only get white people?”

This joke completely missed her friends, however, who were craning over to look at the Hufflepuff table.

“His name’s Xerxes Diaphany,” Calix was saying. “And I think the girl on his right – the one eating the ice cream right now – she’s entering, too.”

“Isn’t that Emmeline Humphries?” said Vessy, rising out of her seat to get a good look.

“What, the head girl?” Chiân turned to look as well.

“Yeah, her little brother Perce is in our Herbology class, remember? Their dad works in my dad’s department,” she said, somewhat smugly.

There was a greater sense of impatience for Petrarch’s speech than Chiân remembered from last year, though it was not hard to imagine why. Silence fell of its own accord as the dishes emptied one last time. Petrarch had barely finished his conversation with the breathtaking divination teacher on his right when every face turned towards him.

Chiân spotted her favourite teacher, Ezra Schnittke the potions master. He met her eyes and gave her a wink as the headmaster got to his feet.

“Welcome, one and all, to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he beamed at them all, arms outstretched proudly. Chiân watched him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He was certainly a kindly man, but he had made a few too many questionable decisions for Chiân to take him entirely seriously – the latest of these decisions being to continue the school year without telling anybody that there was an escaped basilisk on the loose.

“First years, you will have your orientation tomorrow morning with your heads of houses, so do not worry this evening about timetables, classes, or such details as where to find the library. Your head of house will meet you shortly and guide you to your respective house common rooms, where you will find a welcome pack in your dorm rooms full of helpful tips and such. To the rest of you, I trust you will do what you can to make the first years feel at home from the off.”

Chiân glanced along the table at the seventh years. She was remembering poor Egan swimming through the aquarium in the dorms last year in libation week. She saw Pretoria and Demi Bridges exchanging an evil grin and had to supress a laugh.

Petrarch was doing a familiar outline of Rubeus House and Gardens, detailing the opening hours for students, and where older students might apply if they wished to work there on their Saturdays. With a pang Chiân thought of the demiguise she had befriended in her first year, Boba. She still had one half of the Guivernian pod he had brought her, saving Pretoria’s life with his ability to see into the future. She wondered where he was now, and if he still had his half of the shell.

“There is of course no pressure at all to pursue this small term-time employment opportunity, as I can think of a few other extra-curricular activities which might take pride of place for our sixth and seventh years in the coming months…” Petrarch was smiling. The silence in the Great Hall was swelling fit to burst as everyone held their breath.

“As I am sure many of you know, Hogwarts school will be playing host this year to the legendary Triwizard Tournament-“ ripples of keen anticipation ran through the hall. Chiân exchanged grins with her friends, turning quickly back to listen. “The cohorts from the other two competing schools, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute, will be arriving in late October. We,” he indicated the staff sat along the table at the head of the hall, “shall expect nothing less than the utmost courtesy and hospitality from _all_ of you.”

“Yes, the tournament is an exciting magical competition where three young people will face danger, tests of strength, of heart, and of nerve. But perhaps the greatest purpose of this historic event is to allow us to pursue closer relationships with our magical brethren in other countries. Even those of you who will not become school champion will have opportunities to learn, to witness extraordinary creatures and enchantments, to grow in open-mindedness, in keenness to pursue unity-“

“He’s making it sound like a networking conference,” whispered Lydia. Chiân snorted appreciatively.

He did have a knack for making something so exciting sound like a homework project, thought Chiân. She was not alone in glazing over a little as Petrarch continued to wax lyrical about how important it was to expose young people to different styles and kinds of magic.

Eventually he wrapped up the speech by reiterating that the age limit for entrants was seventeen. This caused a slight grumble, and Petrarch raised his voice as he asked all those who were eligible to take the next month to seriously consider whether they would be interested, and to take any further questions to their heads of houses in the meantime.

The speech ended with another fruitless reminder of curfews, of the rule-books, and which particular items were being banned from the school corridors this year.

“And with that, I wish you all a good term, and a good night!” He clapped his hands in farewell, but it was lost in the scraping of benches and pools of chatter already rising across the hall.

Chiân joined the melee with her friends, sparing a glance for the first year Slytherins, who were huddling together on the table. They looked a slightly timid bunch, she thought.

Then a grin spread across her face as she left the hall, thinking of the week of hazes and drinking games that was about to ensue. They’d soon see what the new kids were made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-7-injunctions-and?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	8. In at the Deep End

Chiân closed the door of the dormitory and turned to face an expectant Vessy and Lydia.

She took the shrunken jug out from her robe.

“Okay. If this doesn’t work please don’t kill me, alright? I’m trying,” she said.

She waved her wand over the jug and it grew back to its original size. She gently prodded the silvery film sealing what was inside. Chiân had no idea if this would work – if something this simple would be successful in circumventing the injunction. Maybe Vessy and Lydia wouldn’t be able to hear the words she had trapped inside the jug – or maybe the weird, sluggish fog which had suddenly gripped Chiân would be consequence enough.

It was done, though. Chiân was shaking her head, momentarily blank and confused, but there was a distorted voice floating through the dorm. She recognised it as Asher’s, and then she remembered.

“ _if someone gets attacked or something. If someone directly asks us if we know anything about a giant snake moving around the castle can we even answer? Or will we just have to lie?_ ”

A dark blue wisp which had escaped the jug was now curling through the air, echoing the conversation down in Professor Wexel’s office. The girls looked confused.

The spell shifted a little and the supercilious voice of the ministry wizard sounded.

“ _In that unlikely event, we will of course release the injunction. But until we lift the enchantment you will not be able to engage in any kind of conversation – even, indeed, a direct question_.”

Vessy and Lydia were both staring at Chiân who was feeling very lightheaded, but she could tell that it was just an aftermath from the injunction-defying motion of releasing the spell.

“ _Well, that’s super_ ,” echoed the voice of Ozzy.

“ _Do you have any questions, Chiân?_ ” the sound was barely understandable now, warbling as the spell dissipated.

Chiân heard her own voice, indistinct and muffled, say “ _No, sir. Just, uh, feeling bad about all this”,_ and the blue wisp was spent.

It had done the trick though.

Chiân met their eyes in turn, looking at them with what she hoped was now a mutual understanding.

“Well,” she said eventually, putting the jug down under her bed. “I really hope you got all that because… I literally can’t repeat it…” she frowned, her head fogging a little as she got close to the subject of the injunction.

“You’re under an injunction?” said Lydia in a whisper, as if they might be overheard.

Her words made Chiân remember what they were talking about. Pausing to check it wasn’t going to push the limits, she lifted her hands in a shrug. “Yep.”

Vessy sat down on Lydia’s bed, eyes wide. “Did I hear that right? There’s a… a snake or something, on the loose? Here? In the castle?”

Chiân looked at her blankly. She was just about managing to follow the conversation, but whenever she thought about answering it became very difficult to concentrate, to not get distracted by the shouting and thumping of feet in the common room above them.

“And why are you the ones who know? You and Asher?” Lydia demanded. It was very like her to be insulted by being left out of the world’s most irritating magical restriction, thought Chiân. She stared at her friend, unable to respond.

“Okay fine, you can’t answer that. Uh, can you nod or shake your head to yes or no questions?”

Chiân answered slowly. “Maybe… let’s try it.”

“Okay,” said Lydia, pacing. “There’s a giant snake, yes?”

Chiân looked at her, unable to remember the question for a few seconds. She felt like she had been going to nod. She couldn’t think why. Then she slowly remembered. She frowned for a bit, then Lydia spoke again.

“Okay, so I’m gonna say something, and if it’s true then we wait for ten seconds and you don’t say anything. If it’s _not_ true then you say something – anything at all – within ten seconds. Yeah?”

“Sounds great,” Chiân said, relieved to at least be able to answer this question.

“Alright. So. Giant snake somewhere in the castle…”

Vessy and Lydia watched Chiân carefully. She did not move, staring at the ceiling trying not to think too hard about the levels on which this might count as communicating.

“Okay… and that wizard who was with you looked like some kind of ministry guy… so the ministry of magic knows about it?” asked Lydia. Chiân continued to stare at the domed ceiling of the dorm, tracing the delicate raised silver vines which looped around the tiny stars.

Vessy asked the next question. “And they don’t want anyone else to know, so they’ve put you under a spell so you can’t say anything?”

They heard voices laughing loudly outside the door, passing along the girls’ corridor to join the libation party upstairs. One of them was singing ‘Roxanne’ by the muggle band The Police.

“So you and Asher have this injunction thing,” clarified Lydia. “Is it just you guys?”

Chiân burst loudly into the chorus of ‘Roxanne’. Vessy giggled.

“Okay, okay, shut up. So there’s a bunch of you? Or just a few?” said Lydia, waving her quiet with a grin.

“That’s not a yes or no question,” Vessy pointed out.

Lydia grunted. “Fine, fine…” Chiân glanced at her frown, then looked back up at the ceiling, which seemed safer.

Vessy spoke up. “Is it something to do with the guys who did the heist with you last year?”

Chiân continued to hum ‘Roxanne’ silently in her head, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening, and certainly wasn’t deliberately holding any silences.

“Okay…” said Lydia slowly. “Is it just – I don’t know how many of you there were – just those guys and you?”

Chiân said nothing for at least ten seconds.

“Did you guys have something to do with setting it loose?” said Vessy, voice tense. Chiân smiled up at the ceiling. Vessy was sharp.

“Oh god,” said Lydia. “Did you guys accidentally free it from a vault or something?”

Chiân could feel both of them watching her closely. She flumped backwards onto her bed, still silent.

“Is it really dangerous, this snake?” said Vessy quietly. Chiân closed her eyes, the silence and the injunction heavy upon her chest.

“And it’s your fault,” said Lydia. There was no blame in her voice, just understanding. This silence lasted a lot longer than ten seconds. Chiân sat back up, a tension in her gut that she knew well – guilt.

She and Lydia looked at each other for a long moment.

Vessy sighed. “Jesus Christ, well, thanks for telling us,” she said sincerely, standing up.

Chiân looked at her. “You’re…” she struggled with words for a second. “We’re still friends?” she said, slightly annoyed at how nervous she sounded.

Lydia and Vessy turned to her with expressions of surprise. “Of course,” said Lydia and Vessy snorted.

“Oh hon, you’re not _that_ special,” Vessy smirked at Chiân. “Come on, we’ve got a party to join.”

Chiân was more grateful than she could have articulated even without an injunction for how easily they had both accepted the news that Chiân had set a lethal creature loose in Hogwarts. She followed them both upstairs to the common room, mulling over Vessy’s comment: _“you’re not that special”._ She knew Vess had meant that it wasn’t entirely her fault and she should stop feeling like she was at the centre of every catastrophe. Chiân still couldn’t quite shake the feeling though that if she’d only put up with some unknowns last year and listened to Professor Petrarch then none of them would currently be in danger.

Still, all her closest friends in the castle now knew about the basilisk, and apparently all of them still wanted to be friends with her.

Upstairs in the common room Libation week was in full swing. There were exactly eight new Slytherins, all trying hard not to look nervous. Chiân moved over to the long, wide pane of glass which looked out into the lake. It was dark, reflecting the common room behind her. In the crisp but muted reflection she watched the circle of students in the middle. They were playing some kind of game which involved resisting a tickling charm for longer than your partner. The forfeit seemed to be a draught of hiccoughing solution, judging by the extraordinary noises some of them were making.

Over in the beanbag corner beneath the drapes of the yucca plants and ferns, the fifth and sixth years were chatting and drinking. Pretoria, Demi, Davey, and another seventh year named Alaistar were supervising the younger students in the middle, administering the tickling charms and directing the losers of each round.

Sephy and Jada, now fourth years, dragged Chiân to one of the little tables for a game of exploding snap. Kailtin and Dreya were there, grinning at her, chatting – as everyone seemed to be – about the tournament.

The whole of Libation week in fact was dominated by wild rumours for the upcoming event. Tales of imported giants and a monstrous wrestling match for the first task – or else ways of entering the tournament underage – dominated the conversation. In a charms lesson Egan told them all with wide eyes that the last time it had been hosted at Hogwarts the names of the champions had been chosen by a Sphinx, who had actually swallowed any underage students who had presented themselves.

“Bullshit,” scoffed Calix.

“There is no _way_ that is true,” said Chiân.

Egan nodded furiously. “I swear down – Zerry told me. It spat them back up later, obviously.”

Chiân met Lydia’s eyes and they both smirked at Egan’s defiant tone. Professor Wexel was heading in their direction and they all hastily looked back at their books, raising their wands to practice the standard motion for most size-altering spells.

Potions on the second day was derailed for a full twenty minutes when Emil Spall from Gryffindor stuck his hand up halfway through a discussion about moonstone. Professor Schnittke, always accommodating for the eager student, nodded to Emil to indicate that he should speak freely.

“Sir, is it true that a triwizard champion dies pretty much every time there’s a tournament?”

Schnittke smiled with only a hint of an eye roll. “There have been deaths, yes, but not for many years. Now-“

“Sir,” Emil’s friend, a brown-skinned boy named Hrvoje Massahi, had stuck his hand in the air.

“Yes, Hrvoje?”

“Sir, do you know what the tasks are going to be?”

Schnittke raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “I know what yours are going to be if you don’t stop trying to change the subject,” he said.

It was too late, though. Questions came pouring thick and fast from all tables, nobody bothering to raise their hands. Professor Schnittke seemed mostly entertained though, and told them stories he had either witnessed himself, or heard from other slightly more reputable sources than over-excited and slightly tipsy OWL students.

The new Slytherin first years had barely recovered from their rather drastic bouts of hiccoughs when, on the second day of term, Pretoria set them the first of their challenges.

Standing on one of the tables and raising her arms for attention, the whole common room had fallen quiet to listen to her.

“Alright. First years, you’ve had it easy so far,” called Pretoria like she was commentating a Quidditch match. Chiân leant in to Vessy and pointed to one of the first year girls, Lyra Snow, who was still hiccoughing. She was gazing up at Pretoria with an expression of mild dread on her face. Chiân and Vessy giggled.

“I now announce the first of your libation week challenges: whoever can return to me first with the helmet of a suit of armour gets automatic amnesty from hazing when you get back.” There were some whoops, opposed by some protests from the other years that Pretoria was going easy on them.

In the middle of the room none of the first years moved. Pretoria looked at them, her arms still outstretched. “I’m not gonna count you in, if that’s what you’re waiting for. _Go!”_ she cried. They looked at each other, and then in one movement bolted for the curtained archway which concealed the exit of the common room.

It was very close. One of the boys, Terrance Rorbach, actually made it into the common room first, but then Olivia Kempthorne, a rather feisty looking black-haired girl, appeared right behind him. She raised her wand and aimed a shower of sparks at his ankles. He tripped, dropping the helmet with a yelp and a clang. Olivia strode past him, scooping it up, and presented it smugly to Pretoria.

Terrance looked outraged, but the Slytherins were delighted. “I like her,” Lydia had yelled to the other second years over the applause. Chiân grinned back at her, agreeing.

Libation week continued in a fashion which made Chiân wonder if their own week of hazing challenges hadn’t been slightly tame. On the third night Demi had challenged them to see how close they could get to causing a classroom evacuation the next day during classes without getting caught.

Both Terrance and another first year boy named Saro had tried dungbombs, but had both been caught and given detentions. Olivia had come to Chiân, Vessy and Lydia straight after Demi’s challenge to ask if they’d be up for helping her magically kidnap the giant squid, which they all thought was hilarious but also not fair on the squid.

It was Lyra Snow, still hiccoughing, who won this one, fair and square. She had procured something called a ‘howler’, which Chiân had never heard of and had to get Vessy and Lydia to explain to her, and had reportedly sung the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody into it. She had not released it in her own class, however, but had snuck out of her transfiguration lesson on the pretext of using the bathroom, and levitated it into Pretoria and Demi’s own Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Chiân had sat squashed into an armchair with Sam that night as Pretoria and Demi recounted the story. Lyra sat just before them on the floor, looking very pleased with herself.

“Okay, final and most important challenge,” Pretoria called on the Thursday evening of Libation week. Everyone except the first years knew what was coming. They had all started drinking before dinner, so most of the older students were feeling positively rowdy. Chiân, who had at least waited until after she had eaten, was sipping on a fruit cider that Dreya had given her. She was trying to ignore how giggly Vessy was getting beside her, much farther into a bottle of rosé than Chiân really thought was good for her.

Everyone was sat around on beanbags, armchairs, each other’s laps, or on the edge of the dais where the piano stood, watching as Pretoria announced the age-old scavenger quest to break into another house’s common room and return with proof.

“This challenge is a sacred tradition,” she said. The first years looked at each other excitedly. “And I would like to give a special mention here to Firebug, who so far remains the only Slytherin who’s pulled it off successfully.” She gestured over to Chiân, who waved to the slightly tipsy roars of approval from everyone else. The first years were all craning around to look at her. She grinned at them as the room gave her a round of applause.

“You may ask for no help from us,” Pretoria swept an arm around the common room, “and you have until Sunday night, so if you want to stay now, you may.” And with that she, Demi, Ellen, and Paul cleared the middle of the common room for the other great tradition of Libation Week: Shot Roulette.

Chiân joined in this time, though was not too proud to tap out after only five rounds. She had downed two separate shots of shower gel and one of fire whiskey and thought already that she might throw up. Her wand was in her pocket though and she pressed a hand to her stomach as she left the table, concentrating on soothing it with magic. Calix was boo-ing her for giving up so easily and she threw him a middle finger.

She joined Egan and Kyril who were talking to some of the first years.

“-and came back with a bust of Harry Potter which we kept in here for like months,” Kyril was saying to an awed-looking Saro.

One of the girls nudged Lyra, and they both stared at Chiân as she took the seat opposite them. “Hey,” she said with a grin, then turned to Kyril. “We’re not supposed to give them tips, remember?”

“Oh this doesn’t count – I’m just telling them the story of your success,” he said, grinning back at her. It felt slightly impressive to sit here showing off to the new kids.

“Why did the antler-girl call you a firefly?” asked one of the boys.

“Firebug,” said Egan and Kyril at the same time.

“Because that’s my name,” said Chiân, looking at the boy. “What’s yours?”

“Monty,” he said promptly.

Chiân raised her eyebrows, remembering the adults they’d encountered at Vessy’s house. “Montgomery Fenwrite?”

His eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

Chiân waggled her eyebrows mischeviously. “I can read minds,” she said.

The next day in History of magic she found herself recalling that moment. Rumour had it that History of Magic used to be taught by a ghost, which an old headmaster had eventually had to banish to open up the spot again after a hundred or so years. Chiân dearly wished that it was still taught by a ghost now, because surely that would make it even slightly interesting.

Their History of Magic teacher was a portly, nasal witch named Fiortha Trudgebury, who had invited all of them to call her “Fi” in their first lesson last year. None of them had ever done so. It wasn’t that she wasn’t kind, or in theory eager to teach them – she was just a dreadfully boring person to listen to.

Chiân always sat next to Lydia in this class, as she had done in the previous year, and was well practised at staring forwards whilst letting her mind wander fruitlessly for the duration of the hour.

Today she was thinking about mind-reading, about legilimency and about Baba Buku, who was often in her thoughts. She had received a note from Penny Pemberton, the school counsellor, the previous morning at breakfast. She was asking if Chiân wanted to come see her next week to talk about whether they would continue Chiân’s sessions this year.

Chiân rather liked this idea, but not because she felt like she was in any danger of exploding these days – more because Penny was a good source of information about a branch of magic which Chiân had become deeply interested in last year: Psychomancy.

Outside the window of the History of Magic classroom Chiân could hear a distant bird, feverishly cawing in a way which sounded a little like Lyra’s hiccoughs. Chiân had been wanting to have another go at the magic Baba Buku had taught her, and this frightfully unlistenable litany of magical legislation from twelve centuries ago seemed as good a cover as any to Chiân.

She took her wand out of her robes and held it under the desk in her right hand. She did not point it, as was customarily the posture for casting a spell. Instead Chiân held it against her palm, threaded behind her thumb and pinkie finger so that it lay flat and horizontal against her hand. Last week in Charms she had nearly dropped her wand, and Chiân had caught it in something like this position. She liked the way it felt there, like a talisman rather than a weapon.

Chiân was curious to know more about what significance the position of the wand held over one’s magic and made a mental note to ask Professor Schnittke some time. She supposed it was more Professor Wexel or Professor Galbraith’s area of expertise, but neither of them had ever really encouraged Chiân’s incessant questions during their lessons.

Chiân listened for the bird outside the window of the castle, concentrating. She remembered that feeling of letting her mind wander out of her head, leaking forth like the edges of her very self were blurring. It was frustratingly difficult though when the creature was not there in front of her – when it remained too far beyond the castle to even really hear, let alone focus on in thought and intention.

Her chance came, however, later that day in Care of Magical Creatures class. Chiân had been looking forward immensely to getting back to her Saturday visits around Rubeus House and Gardens. Despite the fact that she only had one more day to wait she was still a little disappointed when Professor Meyerbeer led them away from the sanctuary and across to a different edge of the grounds, towards the lake.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors had stood around in a huddle by the lakeside as Professor Meyerbeer explained that they would be focusing on aquatic life this term. This would mean regular trips out into the lake on the same boats the first years used on their first entrance to Hogwarts castle.

Chiân climbed into a boat with Asher, Max, and Kyril, and Meyerbeer led the fleet forwards with a flick of his wand. The boats followed his and came to a stop a few hundred feet out into the lake. Already it was dark and deep beneath them. They had each been given a small bag of beetle eyes at the start of the lesson and their activity for the hour was to sprinkle them into the water and observe the small, glowing fish which came happily to the surface to feed.

Professor Meyerbeer sat back in his boat and told them all about the healing nutrients and strange magical properties these fish possessed. Chiân and the others leant over their boats, gazing into the depths as they listened. It was very peaceful out on the water, surrounded by quietly murmuring students and the warm, enthusiastic tones of their teacher drifting to them across the rippling lilac surface of the lake.

Chiân’s eyes were on a fish which was gawping upwards towards the beetle eyes she had dropped for it. Then, checking surreptitiously that the others were all similarly occupied, she grasped her wand in the same cross-hand position. Concentrating hard on the fish before her, Chiân moved her mind with great care out of her head.

She felt like she was leaning down to touch the moving pink and silver lights in the fish’s spine, though she knew that she was still in the boat. She found the fish in that strange, ethereal way she remembered from Baba Buku’s lesson. A small part of her could feel the damp wood of the boat along her side where she was leaning, but her mind, her conscious thought, had slipped triumphantly through the surface of the water and into the fish.

The fish was much stupider than the birds she had tried this on previously – that much became clear at once. The space for thought seemed cramped, small and directionless. She had to scramble for a moment to remember that she was anything other than a desire for the suddenly delicious-looking beetle eyes bobbing above her.

The light dappled through the water, bright up here. Chiân let the fish continue to feed, revelling in her successful execution of the magic. Perhaps having had its full, the fish flipped over and began to swim downwards. Chiân watched through its eyes which were pointed in painfully different directions, though this was not unlike the eyes of the birds so she was at least used to it.

The fish could see a lot further in the water than Chiân would have been able to. Its eyes seemed to be able to interpret the waving beams of blue within the black as distance, shape, and direction. Chiân was far away from the boat, from the class, from the ears which could still vaguely make out the lesson her body was part of. She was wiggling downwards through wide open water, watching distant shapes flitter in and out of focus, in and out of sight, passing under bigger creatures which made currents that lifted and buffeted the fish and the ropey green weeds which obscured her vision.

Suddenly, out of the gently waving grasses along the rocky, sloping floor of the lake, came a wide open maw of a mouth, ringed with teeth and visible only for the most heart-stopping second as it pounced upon Chiân’s fish.

Chiân gave a great shrieking yelp of alarm and ricocheted back into her body. She recoiled so violently as the fish got eaten that she fell backwards, crashing hard into the other side of the boat. It pitched beneath her and with an almighty amount of yelling from the other occupants, all four of them were dumped into the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-8-in-at-the-deep-end?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	9. Known Unknowns

The class did not get much done after Chiân unceremoniously dunked three of her classmates into the lake with her. They recovered from their shock pretty quickly once Professor Meyerbeer dried them each off with a flick of his wand. The story had been passed around both the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms with much glee.

Chiân had made many apologies to their Care of Magical Creatures teacher, citing an ugly, many-ringed mouth full of teeth that she had seen in the water as the reason for her alarm.

“Hmm, well it sounds like a Grindylow, but I never did hear of one of them coming so close to the surface,” the teacher had mused, diverted from his scolding by this interesting tale.

None of the first years had managed to get into the other common rooms, though Lyra and Alexa – another first year – had given it their best shot. They had arrived in the common room on Saturday evening reeking to high heaven, drenched in a foul-smelling substance which a laughing Alec Cortez had identified as ‘Stinksap’. They had followed some Hufflepuffs to their common room, watched them tap the necessary barrel to enter, then tried to replicate it without knowing the exact rhythm. Apparently the common room had sensed the imposters and had cheerfully soaked them.

Chiân had arrived back in the common room from the Rubeus House and Gardens just as the older students were helping to siphon off some of the worst of the sickly, grey goo. She had laughed with them but hurried down to the bathrooms to get rid of the smell.

She then spent a few hours lying on her bad, gazing at the glowing, lively aquarium wall which stretched through the long side of their dorm room and all the way along the corridor. Chiân was practising moving through the different eyes of the fish, following one with her eyes from where she sat on her bed until she was looking out from its often miniscule frame of vision.

It was making her seem distant and pre-occupied to the others, she knew. Several times now Lydia and Vessy had interrupted her sitting or lying on her bed, an hour deep into swimming through the fish tank. Vessy had been downright disturbed when Chiân did not respond to her impatient wondering why she wasn’t joining the final rites of Libation week upstairs, and Chiân had been too dizzy and disorientated to figure out how to answer her in time.

She did not explain her new pastime to them. She didn’t want Vessy knowing about her relationship with Bukuroshe who was, after all, Vessy’s grandmother and not hers. Chiân’s maternal grandparents lived somewhere up in Scotland, and she only saw them once or twice a year. Her paternal grandparents were dead. She felt strangely possessive of Baba Buku, but tried to pretend to herself that this jealousy over the grandmother who was not hers was actually benevolence for Vessy, whom she did not want to trouble by betraying that she had in fact transgressed into parts of the house which Vessy herself was not allowed into.

She also hadn’t told Pretoria and Sam, who despite only being a couple of weeks into term were already drowning in the intense workload of their final year of school. The only one of her friends to whom she had confided these new, burgeoning talents, was Asher, telling him the full reason behind his dunking as they walked around Rubeus House and Gardens together the next day.

Chiân was sat now in the common room on Tuesday afternoon, watching Pretoria and Sam cross the chamber in their Quidditch robes, each holding a broomstick. Pretoria was Quidditch team captain this year, she knew, and figured it must be time for try-outs. To her surprise a moment later Vessy came out of the stairwell from the dorms. She was wearing robes Chiân had not seen her in before, and which looked very similar to the streamlined outfits the seventh years were wearing. She also bore the haughty, proud expression she wore when she was over-compensating for inward embarrassment.

Chiân called out to her. “Hey, Vess!” Vessy jumped, looking slightly guilty, then hurried over to her. She was holding a sleek black broomstick under her arm as if trying to hide it from sight. “You trying out for the team?” Chiân asked, smiling.

She scowled a little. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m quite good, you know.”

“I’m not laughing,” said Chiân sincerely. “I thought you didn’t like flying? Last year you stopped coming to the lessons.”

“Oh no, I love flying! And I’m quite good, you know. I just thought the lessons were boring because I could already do it.”

“Nice,” said Chiân, trying to make her voice sound supportive. “Can I come watch your trial?”

Vessy looked at her shiftly. “Okay but if I don’t make the team you have to promise not to tell anyone I tried out.”

Chiân rolled her eyes at Vessy’s vanity. “Sure, fine. Let’s go.”

They walked down to the Quidditch pitch together. Vessy nervously bid her goodbye as Chiân found a seat in the stands. She had brought with her a book on _Denizens of the Deep_ which they were supposed to be reading for Professor Meyerbeer, but she did not get much of it done.

Memphis Carter, the team captain from the previous year, had graduated and left, leaving open a spot for a new beater on the team. One of the others must have been a seventh year too, because they were also trying out for a new Chaser.

Chiân absently watched the various other students flying loops, tossing a quaffle between them. Francesca Jordan, now in her fifth year, had been the seeker last year, though she now seemed to be trying out for Chaser. Frustrated with her grounded view Chiân twiddled her wand in her hand, casting around for a bird.

A few seconds later she had hijacked a passing raven and was soaring above the flyers. She was getting better at this already, thought Chiân with some smugness.

Now she could see that Vessy was trying out for Seeker, threading through the others in pursuit of the practice snitch Pretoria had released for her. There was a look of uncharacteristic, wild and complete freedom on Vessy’s face. Chiân’s heart gave a squeeze back in her body. Vess was a very, very good flyer. Chiân could hardly believe that she hadn’t boasted of this before – especially considering how much Egan and Calix talked about how good they were at flying.

In fact both Egan and Calix were there trying out as well. Calix in particular seemed awed at Vessy’s speed and mastery of the air, frequently getting distracted so badly that he dropped the quaffle four or five times when Will Wightly, the team’s keeper, passed it to him.

Chiân knew Pretoria well enough to know that she was impressed as she called them all back to the ground. Chiân re-entered her own body, releasing the raven to go on its merry way, and watched as her antlered friend called around to the various sets of students who had tried out.

There was some cheering and Chiân jumped up as several people hugged Vessy, welcoming her to the team. She ran over to Chiân shrieking, “I made the team! I made the team!”

Chiân yelled with her and gave her a bear-hug, Vessy’s broomstick thwacking her in the back of the head as they embraced.

“You never said you could fly,” said Egan’s accusatory voice. The girls broke apart and looked at him and Calix, neither of whom had made the final cut. Calix was looking at Vessy with a slight gleam of awe in his eyes.

Vessy was radiant. “Oh, y’know, a true lady never reveals all her secrets,” she said with a lofty toss of her hair. She giggled, and Chiân grinned at her.

Pretoria spotted her and waved.

“Nice flying!” Chiân called back to her. The captain grinned as she came over to them.

“Not gonna try out yourself, Firebug?” Chiân shook her head, but Pretoria had turned to Vessy. “There’s no inter-house cup this year, you know that, right?”

Vessy’s face fell a little. “How come?”

“Because of the tournament,” she shrugged. “I know, it’s kind of a bummer – but hey, there’ll still be plenty of games to play.”

“Oh right, just not a competition?” Vessy clarified.

Pretoria nodded and at that moment a shout echoed across the pitch. They all turned to see Abery Lore, the new beater, running towards them

He panted to a stop, pale and wide-eyed. “You guys – gotta come – back to the common room – Petrarch’s orders.”

“What?” said Calix, looking blankly at him.

“What’s happened?” said Pretoria in alarm. Abery shook his head, urgently beckoning them to come with him and they all followed him back up to the castle at a jog.

Everyone else who had gone down to the tryouts had had time to change back into their ordinary clothes. Sam had just been coming back to find her girlfriend and as soon as they got to the common room she leapt towards Pretoria, who put an arm around her, asking what was going on.

Every Slytherin was in the common room. Theirs was by far the smallest house so this wasn’t too much of a squeeze, but Chiân wondered if the same thing was going on in the other houses. She thought of the Gryffindors, crammed into their cozy little living room up in the tower. She wished, not for the first time, that she and Asher were in the same house.

Lyra and Alexa had led the cohort of first years over to where Pretoria, Sam, Chiân, and Vessy were still standing.

“Is there another party happening?” asked Lyra excitedly.

“Are we doing more challenges?” said Monty behind her. Pretoria fended them off with a serious look, telling them to sit down. Chiân and Vessy looked at each other, increasingly nervous. Abery had not known why they had all been called into the common room, simply acting on the tense urgency of Mr Togue, who had ordered him to bring the others in at once.

Chiân followed Vessy over to where Lydia was sitting with the boys. Calix and Egan were already there around the coffee table, faces grave. Lydia barely spared a look of surprise for Vessy’s flying clothes, waving them in to sit down next to her.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Chiân asked her.

She shook her head. “No idea. Everyone has been sent back to their common rooms. Apparently we’re going to have dinner up here.”

“Seriously?” said Chiân, raising her eyebrows. Something in her stomach was knotting tightly. What if it was the basilisk? What if someone had been hurt?

Lydia was right about dinner. Professor Wexel arrived just after seven pm, sweeping into the common room looking very serious.

He announced that they would be taking food in the common room that evening, as well as the next morning for breakfast. None of them were to leave the common room, and precautions would be taken to ensure that they would not. His eyes lingered on the gang of seventh years sat beside the darkening lake window.

He refused to answer any of the clamouring questions about what was going on and shouted over the rising noise for everyone to get to their feet. He raised his wand and many spindly wooden chairs appeared around matching wooden tables. Plates and cutlery were set at each place, but not the shining, heavy utensils of the Great Hall – this crockery was chipped and mismatched, almost like they had been dug hurriedly out of a storage cupboard.

The Slytherins rumbled into seats, some still anxiously calling questions out to their head of house. He told them he would be back in an hour and would answer any questions then. Just as it did in the Great Hall, dinner suddenly appeared on their plates, and Chiân just turned back in time to see Professor Wexel leaving the common room as everyone settled down to eat.

The second year guys were nervously spouting theories that maybe this was something to do with the triwizard tournament, and that something had gone wrong in preparations for the first task. Benji squeaked something about a giant escaping and spilled rice all over his robes. Egan and Calix scoffed his fear away but Vessy and Lydia had both turned to Chiân with identical stares.

She could see that they were thinking the same thing she was. She hoped that they remembered that she literally could not broach the topic herself.

“I wish there was some way to see what was happening in the other houses,” said Lydia.

“We could fly up there,” said Calix keenly, pointing at Vessy’s broom and raising his own, which he had not bothered to carry down to his room.

“We can’t get out of the common room, remember?” Lydia said dismissively.

“We could fly out of a window?” Suggested Kyril.

Chiân snorted. “Which one?” she said sarcastically, gesturing around at their underground chamber, which only had one, and an underwater one at that. He grimaced.

“If only we had an owl,” said Vessy, frowning at her plate. She had barely eaten and Chiân could see the anxiety twisting through her.

Chiân was thinking of when she had sent her voice down the train to call Becky and the others to her compartment. She wasn’t sure the spell would survive a trip all the way up through the castle to the Gryffindor corridor. Then a thought sparked. “Hey, what was that letter thing that Lyra used on Pretoria’s class in Libation week?”

“What, the howler?” said Lydia in surprise.

“Yeah, couldn’t we make one of those?” she looked around at the others. Egan was giving the idea a thoughtful nod of consideration.

A few minutes later Professor Wexel reappeared. If the impatient students of his house had hoped that his return would come with information and reassurance then they were sorely disappointed.

“I trust you are all fed and watered,” he called, and the chamber fell to attentive quiet. “I’m sure you are all wondering what is going on. There has been an accident – please do not worry – but the staff would like all students to remain in their common rooms until we can be sure that the… cause of the issue has been… resolved.”

Chiân had a nasty suspicion that he was very deliberately avoiding looking at her. Stone cold dread was building in her stomach. She had not eaten much either, but still she felt a little nauseous.

“You will be taking breakfast here tomorrow. Mr Bruch will be stationed outside the chamber to ensure that none of you take it upon yourselves to… go wandering,” his eyes made a very quick dart to Chiân, then away. “I will return in the morning to let you know whether you will be going to your lessons as usual, though I warn you now there is a chance you will not be. I trust you all have enough homework to keep you occupied in such an event,” he gave a weak smile which nobody returned.

His final words were insincere placations that were drowned in the whispers and quick exchanges of the students. Professor Wexel got them all to stand once more, and with a sweep of his wand the tables and chairs flew into a neat stack along the dais, behind the piano. The crockery and leftover food upon them had vanished.

Almost as soon as their head of house had left the common room Chiân heard several voices at once calling her. It was the seventh years.

“Back in a minute guys,” she said to her friends, giving Lydia and Vessy a meaningful look.

She wove through the clusters of students over to Pretoria and Sam. “Hey, what’s up?” she said as she reached them.

“You thinking what we’re thinking?” said Sam in a low voice. Chiân could tell by their expressions that they were also thinking of the basilisk.

Chiân crouched down by their chairs. “I’m sure it is. Do you know who was, um, attacked?” she word stuck in her throat and both seventh year girls shook their heads. Chiân gestured to the other side of the chamber to the second years. “We’ve just been talking about how to maybe communicate with the other houses.”

“So were we,” said Pretoria. She had leaned in even further so that Chiân was in danger of being prodded by an antler.

“We were thinking maybe a Patronus charm, but I’ve never quite figured out how to do the talking thing,” said Sam. “And it would be about as discreet as a poltergeist in a crystal ball shop.”

Chiân did not know what a Patronus charm was, but piped up with her suggestion keenly. “We were thinking we could make one of those howler things-“

Pretoria laughed once. “Possibly the only thing less subtle than a Patronus.”

“What if we just sent an ordinary letter, though? Not one that like, screams and explodes and stuff?” said Chiân.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And how are we going to get it to them?”

“And what exactly are you planning to say?” interjected Pretoria. “Hey, just letting you know that there’s this giant snake we legally can’t talk about-“

“We should do this downstairs,” said Sam, interrupting her and casting a furtive glance around. The room was loud with agitated chatter, but they agreed. Nobody paid them the slightest attention as they left the chamber, except Vessy and Lydia, who were watching Chiân with the same serious expressions of understanding on their faces.

Chiân had never been to the seventh year girls’ dorm, but wasn’t surprised to find that it was about six times as messy as the second years’. She was surprised to see that most of the beds seemed unused.

Pretoria was unabashedly changing out of her Quidditch robes, throwing on sweatpants and a t-shirt, which she got over her antlers with a practiced wiggle.

“Is it just you two in here?” said Chiân, sitting on one of the unused beds.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “There are usually about three or four dorm rooms per year group, but there are so few Slytherins that we just,” she shrugged, “worked it out between ourselves.”

“Demi and Ellen sleep next door, and Eva’s shacked up with her boyfriend on the boys’ corridor,” said Pretoria, nodding through the same aquarium wall that ran through Chiân’s room. She did not know Evanna, the other Slytherin girl in Pretoria and Sam’s year, but she did vaguely remember seeing the tall blonde girl sitting in the common room in close proximity to Aliastar Gajadhar.

“Right, so,” said Sam, as if she was opening a meeting. “There’s like an eighty percent chance there’s been a basilisk attack, but I feel like they would have told us outright if there had been a death.”

“Oh, would they?” said Pretoria darkly.

“Yes. If someone’s just been injured or petrified or whatever then they can pass that off as some other bullshit enchantment collateral. If someone’s dead I think they’d feel like they have to come clean or else their parents would sue.”

Chiân appreciated Sam’s matter-of-fact approach. It made her feel a little less overwhelmed with panicky guilt at the thought that someone might be hurt – might even be dead – because of her.

“If we can send a message to the other houses – even if we can’t mention the basilisk – we can find out who got hurt,” suggested Chiân.

“Yes. And I want to know what the others are thinking,” said Sam, frowning again.

Chiân knew she meant Ozzy, Theo, Becky, and Asher.

“A letter’s not a bad idea,” said Pretoria. “But how to get it up there is the question.”

Chiân remembered Professor Galbraith, a year ago in a transfiguration classroom which Chiân had just partially demolished. She started excitedly. “We could enchant the parchment to fly up there by itself. We wouldn’t even need an owl!”

“Now there’s a thought,” said Sam. “But how are we going to slip it past Bruch? We can’t even leave the damn common room.”

Pretoria snapped her fingers. “Zerry.” They both looked at her.

“The non-binary guy – er – kid, in fifth year?” asked Chiân. She had never spoken to Zerry, but knew who they were. Everyone did.

“Yes. Zerry isn’t allowed to use the girls’ _or_ the boys’ bathrooms down here,” Pretoria scowled a little, “so they use the prefect bathroom down the hall.”

“So they could smuggle out a letter?“ said Chiân.

“And release it to find its own way through the castle,” finished Sam. “Alright, perfect. What are we going to say?”

“I want to ask the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs if they’re all okay, but I don’t know where the Ravenclaw common room is,” said Chiân as Pretoria got up to find some parchment.

“We do, don’t worry,” said Sam.

“We shouldn’t mention the basilisk to them,” said Chiân nervously.

“I don’t think we could if we wanted to,” said Pretoria, pulling out a quill. “Have you tried to write this shit down? The bloody injunction makes it impossible.” Pretoria frowned as an issue presented itself to her. “We’re gonna need a way for them to reply,” she said.

“Hmm, that might be a little trickier…” Sam thought for a minute. Chiân frowned as well at this flaw in the plan. “Okay I have an idea,” said Sam, pulling out her wand. “Give me a second.”

Sam took a piece of parchment, frowning and performing some complicated wand motions over the blank surface. With a slight peeling noise the parchment duplicated itself. Chiân watched with great interest as Sam muttered further charms, then reached out for a quill from her girlfriend.

She wrote the word “hey” on the original piece of parchment. It appeared on both rolls, in glistening, identical ink.

“Yes!” Pretoria whooped and kissed Sam proudly. Together they composed a quick message on the first piece of parchment:

“ _Hey Ravenclaws, Slytherins here. Wondering who’s been hurt – are you all okay? It’s not one of us. We’ve twinned this parchment so if you write on it we’ll be able to see your reply. Let us know if you have any info about what’s going on. From Firebug and co.”_

Chiân had protested at this sign-off, but Sam had overridden her, pointing out that she was probably the only Slytherin whom everyone was sure to know, and the other houses would be more likely to reply if there was a familiar name on the note.

Sam copied this out for the Hufflepuffs, and then they wrote a separate, slightly more complicated note for the Gryffindors.

_“Hey Becky and co. Your friendly neighbourhood Slytherins here. Don’t suppose you know who’s been hurt? It’s none of our lot. You thinking what we’re thinking? Please let us know if you have any info – this parchment is twinned so we’ll be able to read anything you write on it. From C, S, and P.”_

It had indeed proved quite difficult to write anything which even came close to the issue of the gigantic snake, but Sam and Pretoria reasoned that this was clear enough to those in the know. Also addressing the note specifically to Becky seemed a more promising tactic than simply releasing the notes into the wilds of Gryffindor tower.

“Right, so, turn them into birds, you think?” said Sam, separating the three notes and their twinned counterparts.

“I think we should use bugs, actually. Less obvious,” said Chiân brightly. She took one of the notes and held it up, thinking for a moment.

There was a certain joy for Chiân in this kind of problem-solving. She often found that if she was concentrating and thinking clearly enough she could sense out the necessary spell to curve the situation towards her preferred outcome. On the train at the start of term she had wanted to call her friends to her, and it had immediately been obvious what simple gesture of a wand, which gentle pressure of her own internal magic would send her voice cantering down the passageways.

Right now she lifted her wand from her pocket and with an absent gesture stuck it behind her ear. She was focusing on the parchment, delighting in the challenge of how to get the strip in front of her to conform into the vision in her mind.

She moved her fingers around it, manipulating the air but not touching the parchment, which hovered as she worked. She barely noticed Sam and Pretoria’s exchanged looks. It was like a simple origami piece, but as well as folding the material she folded motion, direction, and stealth into the twisting folds.

Triumphant, she held up a neat, tightly-folded little parchment beetle. She beamed at the two seventh years, who were each watching her with an expression she did not quite understand.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re kind of terrifying,” said Pretoria promptly, her tone amused.

“What?” Chiân blinked at her. “ _I’m_ terrifying?” she thought this was a bit rich coming from a bald-headed Quidditch captain seventh year with antlers – and a Slytherin to boot. “Hark who’s talking,” she muttered as Pretoria and Sam laughed.

She neatly repeated the magic on the other two slips of parchment and sat back to proudly survey the three beetles, their legs twitching slightly with the charms Chiân had lain in them. The three girls proceeded back up to the common room. The room was feeling slightly more normal now, aside from the dark undertone to the conversation.

“There they are,” said Sam, pointing over to the fifth years. Zerry Gilgamesh was sat under the superficial shade of the indoor plants, lounging on beanbags with the other fifth years. Chiân lagged back a little, holding the beetle-notes carefully and looking with interest at Zerry.

“Hey, Zerry,” said Pretoria, approaching the beanbags. “Can we borrow you for a second?”

Zerry got up and followed her back to Sam and Chiân just as Vessy and Lydia appeared at Chiân’s elbow.

“What’s going on?” hissed Lydia.

“Is it the sn-“ started Vessy, but Chiân shushed her, eyes still on the non-binary student before them.

“We’ve written notes to the other houses – they might not reply but we figured it’s worth a shot, just in case they know what the hell’s going on,” Pretoria was explaining to Zerry.

“Nice,” they said, and Chiân raised the beetles in her hand, each the size of a sickle. Zerry looked impressed.

“We don’t want to risk Bruch spotting them if we release them right out of the common room entrance, though,” said Sam, nodding to the archway beyond which they all knew the formidable caretaker and groundsman of Hogwarts was standing watch.

“Is there any chance you’re being allowed out to use your bathroom?” Pretoria asked them.

Zerry had a shrewd expression on their face. “I mean, I didn’t have a chance to ask Wexel, but even if Bruch doesn’t let me I should be able to have enough of an argument with him to like, drop them into the corridor or something.”

“Perfect,” said Sam, grinning.

Chiân held out the beetles, explaining eagerly that each one had a charm wound in it like a little clockwork spring so that it would start running to its destination as soon as it was released. Zerry took them, examining them with interest.

“Nice spellwork. Did you do these?” Zerry said to Sam.

She shook her head with a wry smile. “That was all Firebug,” she nodded at Chiân.

Chiân and Zerry appraised each other for a moment with mutual interest. Zerry had shaggy, lopsided hair and a slightly ill-defined jawline. They were not ugly, but nor were they attractive. The androgyny of how they chose to wear their hair, how they chose to dress when not in their school robes, added to a striking sense of otherness that seemed far more profound than simply not quite being male or female.

Chiân wanted to ask Zerry all sorts of questions – about not being allowed to use the normal bathrooms – about whether or not they really were a metamorphmagi – but now did not seem the time.

“Right. May as well try this now,” said Zerry, gathering their thoughts and looking away from Chiân. “And if you hear anything can you let us know?”

“Sure thing,” said Sam, and the group of girls watched Zerry walk across the room, slipping the parchment beetles into their sleeve as they went.

“So they’re like, not a boy or a girl, right?” asked Lydia.

“Weird,” said Vessy, sounding slightly alarmed.

“Brilliant,” said Chiân and Pretoria, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-9-known-unknowns
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	10. Rumours

The beetle-notes had worked for the most part very well. Becky replied within an hour and Sam had rushed over to show Chiân, who was sat with Vessy and Lydia.

In neat, slanting handwriting she had written beneath Sam’s note:

_“Fantastic shout, these notes. Loved the beetle – makes you wonder what else is slithering around the castle unnoticed, doesn’t it? We don’t know who, but we know that two students have been sent to St. Mungo’s. None of our lot either. Becky.”_

And then, even as Sam showed it to Chiân, further words appeared, scrawled hastily:

“ _Oz is trying his damnest to steal this from me so if you end up with a twin note that’s covered in dick drawings I apologise.”_

Lydia, reading it over Chiân’s shoulder, giggled at the addition.

Vessy had caught Sam’s significant look to Chiân, and leant in co-conspiratorially, making a quiet noise of understanding which Sam missed.

The Ravenclaws’ note had been answered by Shanti Ilaiyaraaja, a girl Chiân had befriended the previous year. Her note was short and simple:

_“None of ours. Rumours say Hufflepuffs. Thanks for the note - stay in touch. Shanti.”_

The Hufflepuffs had not replied at all.

The lockdown lasted three days. The fifth and seventh years, being in the early throes of a significant exam year, were escorted by teachers to their lessons. The rest of the Slytherins were confined to the common room and their chambers below. Even Calix and Lydia had done all their homework by lunchtime on the second day, and stir-craziness was beginning to settle into all of them.

Pretoria and Sam, being amongst those who could leave the common room, came back triumphantly on Thursday with news.

Chiân, Vessy, and Lydia sat around with most of the seventh years to hear what they had uncovered. Sam was taking NEWT level Arithmancy, and there were so few of them that all four houses met together for these classes. A Hufflepuff seventh year girl named Ina Godfries had told Sam with obvious distress that no fewer than six of their number had been rushed to St Mungo’s hospital that Tuesday.

“Six?” said Demi in alarm, interrupting Sam’s recounting of the tale. The others shushed her. Chiân’s stomach was churning again.

“Four of them came back pretty much immediately. They’ve had their memories modified,” said Sam, and her voice was dark. “Not much, but apparently just enough that they don’t remember what happened – just that they were out there with the other two when it happened.”

“When _what_ happened?” said Paul impatiently.

“They don’t exactly know,” Sam said slowly, ”because the other four can’t remember it clearly now, but they know they were down at the dock, and-“

“Where?” said Chiân.

“The dock – you know where the little boats come in under the school?” said Pretoria.

“Yeah,”

“It’s only used by the staff once a year to get the new kids into the castle, so loads of people use it to smoke and shit,” she explained. Chiân tried not to laugh at Vessy’s scandalised look.

Sam continued. “So there were six of them down there after lessons on Tuesday – a couple sixth years and some younger kids. The two who are in hospital are Matthew Tasker, and Brett La Borge-“

Ellen made a disturbed noise. “I know Brett. He’s a fifth year – one of the new prefects.”

“I think the other one – Tasker, did you say? Yeah, he’s a third year, I’m pretty sure,” said Paul.

They all considered this information as Sam continued. “Ina said that Meyerbeer has assured them all that the two kids aren’t in danger of dying, but he also won’t say what’s wrong with them.”

Chiân had spent much of the lockdown sat by the lake window, closing her eyes to the cramped and tiresome common room. She was getting very good at finding the tiny minds of the fish in the expanse of water behind her. She would sit with the second years as they argued and bickered about whatever the issue of the day was, her head tilted back against the bottom of the glass. Wand in her fist she roamed out into the darkening currents, swimming from fish to fish, occasionally finding some other beast with slightly more capacity, encouraging it to move through the lake, gazing through their eyes into the water.

Chiân did not admit to herself that she was preparing to look for the basilisk. She tried not to think about how much of this situation might be her fault. She was not at all surprised when at the end of the week she, Sam, and Pretoria were summoned to the Headmaster’s office.

Professor Wexel had walked them up through the castle, which was unusually busy for a Friday afternoon. All the students were making the most of the lifted restrictions and running to find each other, swapping the stories that had brewed for four nights in their respective common rooms.

“Ageratus”, said Wexel to the griffin that guarded the office. It stepped aside and the three Slytherin girls followed their head of house up the wooden stairway to the ornate double doors of Petrarch’s quarters.

Both the Bruchs were inside, standing close to Petrarch as if thick in a conversation that had fallen silent at the announcement of the wooden door nymph.

“Ah, yes, come in girls. Please, sit,” the headmaster bustled over and sat at his desk. Chiân took a seat between Sam and Pretoria, facing him. Pretoria had her arms folded and an expression on her face which told them all she was not impressed.

“Now, we just wanted to assure you at the end of this most unusual week-“

“Are you going to tell everyone that there’s a basilisk on the loose? Or just let them get petrified one by one until there’s no-one left to lie to?” Sam interrupted him.

Chiân noticed not for the first time that while Pretoria looked threatening it was Sam – slight, pink-haired and scarred – who commanded real authority when she wanted to. Chiân had to try to not shrink at the venom now in her voice as she looked at the headmaster.

“Miss Garret-Ford, I would appreciate a little more respect as you address me. No, we do not believe that it is necessary as yet to tell the students about the situation.”

Chiân glanced at Sam and shivered at the unbridled fire in her expression. “And why’s that, _sir?_ ”

Petrarch gave her a curt look. “The two students, whom I am sure you have heard by now are residing at St Mungo’s hospital for the time being, were in fact out of bounds and in an area of the castle grounds where students are not permitted. They would not have encountered the basilisk if-“

“Oh, so you’re admitting it was a basilisk attack, then?” said Pretoria.

Petrarch looked slightly flustered. Mr Bruch moved to stand behind him, looking impassively at the girls. He spoke in his deep, commanding voice. “Yes, it was the basilisk. It is not, however, in the castle. We will be restricting student access to the grounds until it is apprehended.”

Chiân was frowning. “Um, Professor?”

“Yes, Chiân?” said Petrarch.

“I thought seeing a basilisk like, killed you? Don’t they have a ‘lethal gaze’ or something?” Chiân had taken a few books out of the library to read everything she could find about them. She wanted to be sure that nobody had died – that nobody else’s lifeblood was drenching her hands.

“Yes, looking directly into the eyes of the basilisk would prove a mortal blow,” he said solemnly, arching his fingers together. “However it is our belief that the creature approached the students from within the lake, and that Tasker and La Borge glimpsed the creature through the water. They have been petrified. St Mungo’s is administering the necessary mandrake solution to each of them and are sure that they will make a full recovery. Their companions, we believe, merely saw the snake, rather than meeting its eyes, and have had that specific detail removed from their memories.”

“For their safety, I am sure,” said Sam acerbically.

“What exactly does ‘petrified’ mean?” Chiân asked.

Petrarch looked even graver. “They have, effectively, been frozen – not in temperature, but in time.” Chiân stared at him. He continued. “I know you are under a legal injunction from the ministry, and I must ask you to remain patient beneath that restriction. All staff have been informed of the situation, and if you have any serious concern I would ask you to alert one of them if you cannot find us.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” said Pretoria.

Petrarch paused, his mouth still open to speak. He closed it. “I had not thought of that.” He frowned.

“We could establish a code word,” said Pretoria with deep sarcasm. “How 'bout, if we see someone being eaten by a massive fucking snake we grab the nearest teacher and say ‘lovely day for it!-“

One of the portraits made a shocked tutting noise, then hastily went back to pretending to be asleep.

“Miss Clarke,” said Wexel angrily, cautioning her rising anger as much as her language. Petrarch held up a hand to stop him and glowered at Pretoria.

“As long as all our students obey the new precautions, which will be announced at dinner this evening, nobody will be in danger. No, I stand by our decision. It is a matter of weeks now before we will be hosting contingents from the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons schools, and a matter of months before the first task of the tournament commences. We are confident that we will be able to erect the necessary protective enchantments in that time period to ensure that the creature cannot enter any part of the grounds populated or frequented by people.” His tone was decisive.

“And will you tell us? If you find it?” said Chiân quickly, trying to keep her tone polite.

Petrach gave her a smile. “If you wish me to, yes.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Chiân quietly. She knew that the seventh years on either side of her were livid with his attitude, and Chiân could see why. She was remembering Petrarch’s meetings with her in the previous year, and how his attitude then had also been for them to sit tight and leave it to the adults. In hindsight that had made some degree of sense, but she was disbelieving that now when the stakes were so much higher his approach remained one of pretending outwardly that everything was fine.

The precautions, as were announced by the headmaster after a particularly noisy dinner in the Great Hall, were that students were no longer allowed out into the grounds. The two exceptions were for Saturday trips to Rubeus House and Gardens, and for Quidditch practice, each of which would be heavily supervised routes of passage.

Chiân had managed to communicate the situation with Vessy and Lydia, and they had agreed that it seemed to be a dramatic under-reaction. Meanwhile Chiân was doing all the reading she could manage on basilisks, which were fascinating creatures of an ancient and deadly magic. Some of the things she read made sense – a snake with an ability to kill by sight made for an effective predator. But then some things seemed to serve no evolutionary purpose at all, like the fact that spiders universally fled from it – not to mention that it died if it heard the crow of a rooster.

After this particular piece of information Chiân had headed down to Rubeus House and Gardens, trying to subtly uncover whether they kept any chickens. When she found that they did not she went back through to the reptile compound. Here she had spent several long hours in the past weeks, staring at the various creatures, fixated on anything that even slightly resembled a snake.

One of the workers there was a seventh year Hufflepuff named Henry Duncan-Brook. He was eyeing Chiân suspiciously on her third consecutive Saturday loitering around the Ocamy compounds, staring at the little snake-like creatures slithering between the sparse undergrowth that had been planted there for them.

“Hey, aren’t you the Firebug kid?” he said, approaching her. She looked up at him. His tone wasn’t hostile but also did not invite a smile.

“Yes. My name’s Chiân,” she said quickly.

“You’re here a lot,” he said as if it was a question.

“Um, yeah, I just really like, uh, these,” she said, waving vaguely at the pit before them.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow but Chiân did not blush. “Well, if you’re after their eggshells then you should know we keep the nesting mothers in a closed compound that is heavily guarded,” he said to her. He met her confused gaze with one of his own. “Their eggs? Occamy eggs,” he said.

“What about them?”

“They’re made of pure silver,” he gave her a searching look.

“No way! That’s cool,” she said, turning back to look in amazement at the elegant, sleek little turquoise and purple creatures. Her genuine interest seemed to soften Henry a little.

“Yeah, occamies are fascinating creatures. You know they’re choranaptyxic?”

“They’re what?”

“Choranaptyxic,” he repeated. “Means they can change their size to fit their surroundings. This is kind of a usual size, I guess you could say,” he nodded to the occamies. “It’s usually a defence thing. If they’re trying to protect a nest they can grow to the size of a basilisk,” he said proudly.

He was also looking into the occamy compound and missed the way Chiân stiffened at this last word.

“What do you know about, uh,” Chiân could feel the injunction dragging her thoughts away, back to the occamies, and she trailed off. Fortunately Henry picked up the conversation.

“About basilisks? Bet you’ve heard the rumours too,” he gave her another searching look.

She stared at him and shook her head, trying to keep an earnest expression.

“Really? Figured you’d know. Aren’t you a Slytherin?” He shrugged. “Some of the guys went to visit Matt and Brett in hospital the other day – you know, the guys who – yeah, they’re doing fine now, but they’re gonna be there for like another week. Anyway we all thought it was weird that the others couldn’t remember what had happened, and Matt said it was this giant snake in the water. And not like, an anaconda or something – like a _huge_ snake,” he stretched his arms as if this could possibly illustrate the sheer size.

“Basilisks are often like, as thick as an elephant, and about fifty feet long when full grown. If there really is one living in the lake then we’re in big trouble. Deadly creatures.”

Chiân’s throat had gone completely dry. She knew from her reading that even though the serpent was barely six months old it would already be reaching a length of thirty or forty feet. She watched an occamy pecking at the ground, trying to get at an insect, its velvety purple wings extended delicately in concentration, imagining that the bug was a student.

“Anyway, I don’t know if you know the legends, but the monster of Slytherin was a basilisk. He used to keep it in a secret underground chamber or something. Don’t suppose any of your Slytherin pals have been breeding them for fun?” His last words dripped with dislike and definite fear.

Chiân shook her head, wondering if the injunction would let her even participate in this conversation. She cleared her throat a little. “I’m glad Tasker and La Borge are okay,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Yeah, they will be,” he was giving her a wary look, and Chiân tried to fight down the panic she was feeling. In her head her mother’s voice called an old refrain: ‘ _Monster’._ The ‘monster of Slytherin’. With a rush of bitter irony Chiân felt a weird pang of solidarity with the creature.

Henry excused himself a moment later, explaining that he had to go feed the Mokes. Chiân wandered back up to the castle to find Asher. She had left Vessy and Lydia still sleeping, slipping out early to get some time alone in the sanctuary.

Asher was in the library with Tiff and Max. She slipped into a spare seat at their table, returning Tiff’s wave of greeting with a smile.

Chiân found that she was trembling. She tried to tell herself that it was a good thing that the Hufflepuffs knew about the basilisk, but the guilt was crawling up inside her all the same.

Pretoria and Sam had been fuming after their meeting with the headmaster a few weeks before. Chiân had for the second time in her life witnessed Sam at her most wrathful, yelling and smashing things back in their dorm room, livid at the apathy of the staff. Chiân had sat on the bed as Pretoria agreed and sympathised with her anger, watching Sam’s impeded instinct to protect and defend overwhelm her until she was in tears.

Chiân had understood their frustration with Petrarch’s preposterous attitude of concealment, but only now that she had heard the fear in Henry’s voice did she fully appreciate the weight of Sam’s fury. The chances that somebody somewhere was going to die because of the creature they had released last year seemed to be mounting with every passing day that the snake wasn’t caught and the students weren’t fully warned.

Asher leant over the desk towards her, face concerned. “Firebug, hey – you alright?” the other two looked up at her and immediately put down their parchment and book in alarm.

Chiân carefully put her head down on the library desk, taking deep breaths, hiding the tears which were prickling in her eyes. She couldn’t remember feeling this kind of panic before. It wasn’t like being faced with something sudden and alarming – this was a slow, constant background tension– a sense of dread that would not leave her, which was reaching new heights every time she thought about the basilisk, and the Hufflepuff students who had so nearly been killed by her own stupidity.

Asher came around the table and crouched next to her, coaxing her to come out of the library with him so that she could calm down without having to worry about Timmins, the short and angry librarian.

Chiân followed him out of the library and around a corner, into an empty corridor full of mid-morning light.

“What’s up, Chiân?” he said, looking at her with worry on his face.

She explained that she had just been down at Rubeus House and Gardens, and told him what the seventh year Hufflepuff had told her: that the rumour was loose, that they knew about the basilisk, and that they were afraid. She tried very hard not to cry, but was having to take heaving breaths between each word.

Asher sighed. “Yeah, that’s the rumour in Gryffindor tower as well.” He leant against the wall and looked out of the window into the grounds. “A lot of people have been talking about the Chamber of Secrets and making wild accusations about the ‘return of the heir of Slytherin’ or whatever.”

Chiân wiped at her eyes and nose with her sleeve, annoyed at her loss of control. “The what?”

“The heir of Slytherin,” he shrugged. “You know how Slytherin could talk to snakes? Yeah, so like every time the Chamber of Secrets has been opened it’s been some descendant of Slytherin’s who could also control snakes, and they’ve like, set the monster of Slytherin on the muggleborns of the school. It’s the old blood status thing,” he scowled.

Chiân burst a little bit. “But, Ash, _I’m_ the heir thingy then – it’s my fault the basilisk is loose – it’s my fault people are getting hurt-“

“No, no it isn’t Chiân, no-“ he looked nervous.

“It is!” she howled, crying in earnest now. “It’s my fault that it escaped – I made you guys help me break into the vaults – my fault for bursting the other spheres – just like it’s my fault – Tian-“ she floundered helplessly through her tears.

Asher shook his head, expression setting. “No, Chiân that isn’t true. It’s not your fault what happened to your brother-“

“I killed him,” she snapped at him. “Stop pretending I didn’t. Sure I didn’t know what I was doing, whatever. I still killed him. And that makes _me_ a monster too,” she could barely see his face through her streaming eyes. It felt almost too terrible to say out loud. “This is all my fault.” She sank to the floor, putting her head in her hands and trying not to make any noise as she cried.

After a moment Asher sat down next to her and awkwardly put an arm around her. She leant into him, trying to tell herself that he was proof that she wasn’t a monster – because why would he still be her friend if she was nothing but a murderer?

Eventually she gathered herself, sniffling and wiping at her face. “Sorry,” she said, giving him a weak smile and sitting up. There was a slight wet patch on his robes where she had cried into his shoulder.

“S’okay,” he said, looking at her with concern.

“What if someone dies, Asher?” she met his eyes with a pleading look. She had not asked Pretoria or Sam – couldn’t ask Lydia or Vessy – and had very few chances to ask Becky, Ozzy, or Theo. She knew Asher understood that what she really meant was ‘what if I cause not one death but two – maybe more?’

He shook his head. “You’re not the heir of Slytherin, Chiân. The other times someone was using the basilisk to hunt down muggleborns. It’s not like you’re controlling the damn thing,” he said, as if this was the ultimate consolation.

Chiân stared into his face, a realisation coiling through her.

“What? What’s wrong?”

It took her a moment to speak. An idea had arrived with his words, reckless, and audacious, and brilliant.

“I can,” she said quietly.

Asher raised his eyebrows, and when she didn’t respond he prompted her. “I beg your pardon, you can what now?”

“I can control it.”

Chiân could see the alarm curdling into fear in his expression.

“No, no, not like that – I’m not setting a basilisk on anyone, I promise. But listen – remember I told you about meeting Vessy’s grandma? The Veela? And how she taught me to use other creatures to see out of? Well when she did it to me she could move my eyes and stuff, and I’ve been practising it, and I’m getting really good at it, Asher. I can look through all these fish in the lake and move around in them and-“

“Oh yes, like how you were doing the other day when Max, Kyril and I all went for a swim?” he looked mostly amused, and it was deeply reassuring after the fear she had seen in his face a minute or two before.

“Uh, yes. I got – well, the fish I was using got eaten and it kinda made me jump,” she grinned bashfully and he laughed.

“That’s hilarious. You know, this sounds like seriously complicated magic.”

“It’s not super easy, no,” said Chiân modestly. “It was very difficult at first and I still find it quite exhausting to maintain, but once you’ve got the hang of it,” she shrugged.

Asher snorted. “You have no idea how good at this stuff you are. It’s infuriating.” She grinned at him, feeling much better for having cried properly.

“Anyway, what if I managed to find the basilisk? And I could control it, and I could like, help them catch it? I could make sure nobody got hurt!”

The alarm had returned to his face, but she knew that this time it was for her and not because of her. “Have you managed to do that? Control their movements, I mean? Don’t you just use their eyes?”

Chiân answered slowly, mind churning. “I can control them a little bit… like I can move their eyes if I want to check on something… but how different a magic can it be to use their whole body?”

Asher did not look happy with this idea. “Well… I guess you could practice it with the fish and stuff… but Chiân, I don’t think you should go looking for the basilisk. And don’t ask Sam and Pretoria, because we both know that they’d tell you to go out there straight away, but Chiân please – let’s at least wait to see if they catch it.”

Chiân grimaced, but she couldn’t argue with his assessment. If Sam and Pretoria knew about her ability to possess animals they would almost certainly start plotting how to go hunt down the snake as soon as possible.

“Okay fine, but if someone else gets hurt then I’m not waiting anymore, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fair enough.”

“And in the meantime I can practice controlling other animals better,” she said brightly.

Asher gave her a long look, then grinned as he got back to his feet. “You’re something else, Firebug,” he said holding out a hand to help her up.

“I just like having a plan,” she said, and walked with him back to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-ten-rumours-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	11. The Champions

Before anyone quite seemed ready for it, the twenty first of October arrived and it was time to greet the students who would be joining them for the tournament.

For once the talk and rumour in the corridors of Hogwarts was not about giant snakes and the duplicity of Slytherin house. All day during lessons Chiân and her classmates had been fidgety with anticipation. Chiân particularly was experiencing heavy relief. Matthew Tasker and Brett La Borge, now back from St Mungo’s, had filled the school with horror stories about the Chamber of Secrets being opened again, insisting that they had seen a basilisk and that this must mean that someone from Slytherin house was out to kill muggleborns.

While the scorn and sidelong glances were not directed specifically at her, she found the general suspicion with which she and her classmates were being treated quite stressful. Her parents seemed to have noticed the tenor of her letters, though she gave them none of the details, and sent her several food parcels to cheer her up.

Now though, the atmosphere in their last class of the day, Herbology, was an excited one, and Chiân chattered with the rest of them as they helped Professor Mittle prune puffapod seedlings. There seemed to be an unusual number of spiders in the greenhouse today, and Chiân was not the only one who was shaking her sleeves to frantically dislodge an overgrown, spindly arachnid as they scuttled across the leaves and onto the students.

Soon enough they heard the bells from the castle. Mittle, a cheerful black witch with a large afro of natural hair that almost always had at least one twig sticking out of it, dismissed them with a cheerful wave and an exhortation for the day’s work.

Chiân ran with Vessy and Lydia back to the common room to dump their bags and, in Lydia’s case, quickly wash the dirt off her face. They followed the stream of students moving back out to the grounds, congregating in neat groups to await the visitors. The excitement as they waited let Chiân forget to worry about the fact that the entire school was currently out in the grounds where the basilisk was supposedly living.

Professor Wexel was stood near them, wearing freshly pressed robes of forest green. He was smiling a little as Lyra, Olivia, and Saro from first year pestered him with questions about what the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were like.

They were silenced by the loud voice of Mrs Bruch.

“Announcing the arrival of Professor Aleen Kriska and her students, from Durmstrang Institute,” she called in a clear voice that carried across the mass of black-robed students.

There was a collective intake of breath. Chiân, like everyone else, was looking around frantically. Then, suddenly, and to many screams and yells, an enormous fire erupted over the lake. The massive flames that licked the sky were a vivid and familiar green. The ball of flame opened like an enormous, moon-sized flower in the sky, and from within it emerged a great shape.

It looked like a dragon at first, a great iron snout rushing out towards the sky, but then it was followed by a series of elegant, wrought-iron carriages. Chiân realised that the dragon head was a sort of engine, and it pulled a short but ornate train which glided out of the green flames and came to a neat stop along the edge of the lake, a little way away from the awed students of Hogwarts.

The heads of houses shushed their students, who were craning and shuffling to get a good look. Chiân checked around her, but Vessy had snuck forwards to the third years, peering over their shoulders, and Lydia was completely transfixed by the train. Chiân shut her eyes and steadied herself, and found a passing bird, concentrating as she stepped into its mind.

She had been practising controlling as well as looking through animals, and she managed now to turn the bird so that it slowly circled the train, looking down at the people emerging from it. The flames, which had momentarily eclipsed the late autumnal sunlight, had gone.

Professor Petrarch, in robes of rich plum, stepped forwards with a beaming welcome on his face. There was a tall, bony woman stepping from the first carriage. She was wearing thick, almost voluptuous black furs which draped down the length of her body, her thin, pale arms reaching from within them. Chiân thought it looked like she was wearing an entire bear.

She moved forwards to greet their headmaster, and Chiân examined the students who were also exciting the carriages. There were ten of them, and they all looked the same age as the seventh years of Hogwarts. They were clad in matching tunics of brown leather, with black belts and trousers, and red capes. A few of them wore hats or scarves over their hair and had already begun to remove these, looking around them with the same eager interest as was being shown to them by the gawping crowd.

Then there was a roaring noise which distracted everybody. Chiân from her unique vantage point saw it first. It was coming from behind the students, a deep rumbling which shook the ground Chiân could still just about feel beneath her feet.

Chiân used the bird to take one long look at the spinning tower of blue light which had risen like a tornado in the grass. She was just thinking it would be pretty obvious if she was the only person who wasn’t craning in the other direction when a movement caught her – or the rather the bird’s – eye. She still hadn’t mastered moving her own body as well as the body of the animal. It was like trying to ride two bicycles at once, but she took the risk of remaining the only student on the ground who was not turning on the spot, and she wheeled the bird around to face the forest.

Several enormous spiders were slinking out of the trees. Chiân felt her heart, far below in her body, jump into a tighter rhythm. The creatures were the size of a deer, eight legged and hideous even from the sky, and Chiân could just make out several smaller ones running with them. They scuttled out of the forbidden forest and out into the grounds, heading with gut-wrenchingly fast motion into a distant part of the grounds, unseen by anybody but Chiân and the bird she flew with in the sky.

Lurching in alarm at the thought that spiders of this size even existed, Chiân exited the bird’s eyes with a snap. Back on the ground she turned quickly with everyone else, ignoring Vessy’s quizzical look at her delay. Inside the wide column of light was forming something which looked a little like an open-air coach. As the streaks of blue receded Chiân was reminded absurdly of the tour busses which buzzed around central London, missing their roofs and often bearing a loud tour guide.

This coach was a single level unlike the London busses, but there was a figure stood at the helm, steady as the coach floated gently down and settled on the grass. The heads of the Hogwarts houses hurriedly marshalled their students out of the way.

The man who was stood in the open carriage lifted his arms and the coach on its large, spoked wheels of silver rolled down the hill towards Petrarch and the Durmstrang students. Chiân got a close glimpse of the students inside. Again there were about ten of them, boys and girls, and all wearing matching robes of sky blue.

They had all been briefed the previous evening at dinner: the new students would join them in the Great Hall upon arrival for the selection of the three school champions, as well as the ceremonial speeches which opened the tournament and the announcement of the first task. They would then all feast together to celebrate and greet the contingents from the other schools.

Once the guests had begun to walk with the headmaster up to the castle the teachers began to indicate that it was time to go in. Chiân walked with Vessy and Lydia, who gabbled over each other with the second year guys as they followed the other Slytherins back up to the school. Everyone was tripping over each other as they craned to catch another glimpse of the foreign witches and wizards in their midst.

Chiân was thinking about gigantic spiders, and chickens that killed basilisks, wondering if there were certain families of usually non-magic creatures that had magic properties. Suddenly Chiân stopped dead in her tracks. Something she had read a few weeks ago had just come back to her:

“ _The arachnid family is the sworn enemy of the basilisk, and will flee from even the rumour of it.”_

Spiders ran from the basilisk. Spiders of all shapes and sizes. Spiders the size of horses.

“Chiân? You okay?” asked Vessy. She and Lydia exchanged a glance when Chiân did not respond.

Students were jostling her, annoyed and rude as she stood frozen in their midst. Her two friends battled their way back to her.

“Don’t dawdle, please. Proceed into the hall,” called a voice. It was Professor Chancery, head of Gryffindor house. She was looking at Chiân, who met her gaze to find a curious precision of attention in the divination teacher’s eyes.

Chiân came back to her senses and moved, linking her arms into Lydia and Vessy’s as they reached the front doors of the castle.

“I need you guys to help me find Pretoria and Sam.”

“Why? What’s happened?” said Lydia.

“Uh, I saw these spiders-“ Chiân struggled against the injunction, able only to speak of the spiders.

“You saw a spider?”

“Yeah, a bunch of them, but they were- ugh –“ she scowled and they both stared at her as they walked. “Oh wait, uhh-“ and she started singing Roxanne by the Police.

Vessy and Lydia exchanged a glance while Chiân sang loudly, trying to signal to them with her expression. They had joined the scrum of students folding into the Great Hall. Two Ravenclaw boys turned around to give Chiân a withering look as she sang.

“Guys, I only know the chorus,” she said, breaking off. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“Wait!” Lydia had understood. She leant in as they crossed the hall. “Is it something to do with… with the basilisk?”

Chiân looked at the enchanted ceiling, which was showing the dusty blue of an early dusk, and both girls made a quiet ‘oh’ sound.

“That’s them,” said Lydia, who had spotted Pretoria and Sam sat halfway down the Slytherin table. The three of them hurried over, gesturing to get their attention as the students all took their seats.

Chiân slid onto the bench next to Sam, getting right up close to her. “Sam,” she whispered urgently, interrupting her conversation with Paul and Demi. “Sam, am I right in thinking that spiders run away from basilisks? Like, as a rule?”

Sam blinked at her with her one good eye. “What? I mean yes, but why is that-“

She was cut off as Professor Petrarch, flanked by the teachers from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, called for silence in the Great Hall. For the first time Chiân noticed that there were a handful more wizards and witches present than just the extras from the other schools.

She saw Alec several seats down nudge his friend and point to an impressive looking witch with short grey hair. “That’s the minister for magic,” she heard him say.

Petrarch had launched into a speech of welcome, full of the kinds of platitudes Chiân had come to expect from him. The twenty students were stood calmly in even lines on either side of him, just behind their professors. They surveyed the hall with interest. Chiân noticed with a slight grin that several of the Beauxbatons students were staring at Pretoria – or more probably at her antlers.

“What were you saying?” Sam whispered to her when it became clear that Petrarch was really in his stride.

Chiân leant right in to her so that they could not be overheard. “I think the basilisk is in the forbidden forest.” She remembered Asher saying that Sam and Pretoria would go after the snake immediately if they knew where it was, but she did not care. In this moment the urgency of her realisation was sweeping her quickly past caution.

“How do you know?” Sam whispered back, astonished.

“Uh, I saw these spiders – it’s a long story.”

“You saw a spider?” Sam looked like she was going to laugh.

Chiân pressed on impatiently. “No, I saw several spiders – massive ones – running away from the forest-“

“When?”

“Just now, while we were outside-“

“We weren’t anywhere near the forest-“

Paul leant over and shushed them, annoyed. Chiân glanced around at Vessy and Lydia, then across at Pretoria, desperate to let them all know what she had realised.

Petrarch had stopped speaking, and the witch who was minister for magic had stepped forwards, her voice magically magnified so that they could all hear her clearly as she extended her warmest welcomes to the students and staff of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

Pretoria was frowning at Chiân. “You good?” she mouthed.

Impatient, Chiân ducked under the table, crawling across and re-emerging next to Pretoria. She had the attention of all four of them on her now, and she beckoned them in to listen.

“Okay, so. Over summer I went to Vessy’s house, yeah?” she pointed at Vessy, who was watching with her wide eyes. Sam and Pretoria nodded.

“Alright, Vess, don’t yell at me for this, and yes, I’m sorry I never told you, but I met Baba Buku-“

“You what?” yelped Vessy, predictably. Several students from the Hufflepuff table beside them turned to glower at them, as well as the Slytherins on either side of their little huddle. Chiân waved Vessy quiet, looking nervously up at the staff table. The minister for magic continued to speak, but Professor Wexel was glaring at them.

“So I met this old lady – Vessy’s grandmother – yes, I know, I’ll tell you the whole story later, Vess – and she’s blind, so she has this, like, this magic where she can use other animals to see, and she taught me how to do it.”

Everyone around them burst into applause. The five of them joined in absently, not looking up.

“So just now – outside – I was using a bird to get a better view, right – and I saw these gigantic spiders, like _huge-“_

An important hush had fallen. Chiân broke off and they all turned to look at the top of the hall.

A shorter wizard had stepped forwards, a glowing shape floating before him. He was moving it, wand held erect, to the middle of the space before the staff table.

Professor Petrarch spoke, pride ringing through his voice. “It is my very great honour to announce the opening of the Triwizard Tournament!”

The hall rang with more applause and some cheering, and the wizard conjured a grand plinth with his wand. The shape settled onto it, the glow lessening slightly so that they could all see the transparent slopes of a three-sided pyramid.

It was time for the choosing ceremony.

Petrarch called for the Durmstrang students to step forwards one by one, introducing themselves to the hall and announcing their names to the pyramid.

The first student, a gruff looking young man who already had a slight shadow of beard across his jaw, stepped forwards to begin.

“I, Anton Nemitz, present myself as a candidate for champion of Durmstrang school,” he said, and stood, upright and proud, holding his wand with both hands, pointing straight upwards.

The next boy stepped forwards.

“What were you saying about the spiders?” prompted Sam in a quiet voice as the Durmstrang students continued presenting themselves to the Triwizard monument. The others turned back to listen.

“I, Laszlo Sokolovsky, present myself as a candidate for champion of Durmstrang school,” rang the second student, covering their whispers.

“I saw them when I was controlling a bird. They were massive – like the size of horses or something. And earlier we noticed there were loads of spiders in our Herbology greenhouse,” she looked to Vessy and Lydia for consolidation of this detail. They agreed quietly.

“And you think, because there were some spiders running out of the forbidden forest, that, ah,” Pretoria glanced at Lydia and Vessy, and Chiân knew she had come up against the injunction.

“Let’s, uh, let’s call her Roxanne,” said Chiân meaningfully.

Sam and Pretoria gave her a bewildered look as the next voice cried out “my name is Cassimir Dulikov, and I present myself as a candidate for champion of Durmstrang Institute.”

“We know about the basilisk, and yeah, if you call it ‘Roxanne’ that should get around the injunction and we’ll know what you’re talking about,” whispered Lydia with a sage nod. Chiân knew she was thrilled at being able to give Sam and Pretoria such impressive information.

“How did you, uh, arrange that one?” said Sam, looking bemused.

“I, Janus Balmont, present myself as a candidate to be champion for Durmstrang institute!”

“With great difficulty,” said Vessy, eager to participate.

“Okay, fine, so, Roxanne is living in the forest, is she?” said Pretoria, earning another glare from Paul. She lowered her voice, head, and antlers. “What are you thinking, Firebug?”

Chiân hesitated as the final Durmstrang boy presented himself.

“My name is Lucan Weltz, and I present myself as a candidate for champion of Durmstrang.” His voice had been slightly quieter, slightly less proud than the others. He joined the other four, holding his wand in the same position, waiting.

The first girl stepped forwards. “I, Zorah Hennigar, present myself as a candidate for Durmstrang school.”

Chiân spoke slowly and carefully. “I was thinking… I might be able to… like, control Roxanne. Maybe… what if we managed to find… her… and…” it was difficult to discuss the basilisk, even calling it ‘Roxanne’, and Chiân was having to fight the injunction quite hard.

“I, Lilike Telep, present myself on behalf of Durmstrang School as a candidate for champion.”

“Chiân, that’s suicide,” said Sam seriously. Chiân looked at her earnest, disfigured face, surprised that she seemed to be advising caution. “You should let us go.”

Chiân shook her head, defiant but unsurprised. “Oh, and you’re less likely to die, are you? You can’t control… Roxanne. I can.”

“Can you? Or can you just look through her, uh, very seductive eyes?” said Pretoria, stumbling over the injunction.

“I, Radmila Vlarsch, present myself as a candidate for triwizard champion of Durmstrang Institue,” said a loud, self-important girl with deep red hair. She looked around proudly as she stepped back to join the line, wand held forwards with obvious pride.

“This Durmstrang lot look like gits, don’t they?” said Pretoria in a light whisper. She had also looked up at the ring in Radmila Vlarsch’s voice.

“They do. And yes, I can control Roxanne,” hissed Chiân, pulling their attention back in.

Sam looked at her. “Do you speak parseltongue?”

“What? No, I meant by using it- er, Roxanne’s mind.”

“My name is Zoia Petskeranov, and I present myself as a candidate for champion of Durmstrang.”

“A- ugh, I mean, Roxanne – is a hell of a lot bigger than a bird,” said Sam doubtfully.

“I can do it,” whispered Chiân back, her voice fierce but her stomach full of doubt and nerves.

“And what is your plan, exactly? Just possess… Roxanne… and then make her drown herself in the lake? Or what?” said Pretoria in a spiky voice which Chiân knew to conceal the same concern for her that Sam’s face was showing.

“I, Ivana Sevelsky, present myself as candidate for Durmstrang school,” announced the final student, and as she joined the line the hall broke into excited applause. Sam reluctantly looked away from Chiân’s glower to join in.

A moment of breath-taking anticipation gripped the occupants of the hall. Even Chiân, pre-occupied as she and her friends were, stared fixedly at the pyramid for a moment.

The glowing light inside it was spinning now, getting brighter and brighter. The same icy blue light which danced inside the triwizard monument was now shining from the ten raised wand-tips of the Durmstrang candidates. For a minute the light spun and nobody seemed to breathe.

Then, in the same heartbeat, the light within the pyramid and the light of a single wand-tip burst into red and gold sparks. It was Lilike Telep.

Her shriek was lost in the yelling and cheers that erupted across the hall. She had burst into tears. The student named Lucan Weltz broke ranks first and grabbed her in an excited hug, each shouting. Chiân noticed that Radmila and the boy called Cassimir Dulikov both looked disgusted, turning away instead of joining their classmates in their congratulations of Lilike Telep, the Durmstrang champion.

“Nice,” said Pretoria, clapping loudly. “She looks like less of a bitch than the others.” Chiân knew she was also watching the outraged Radmila Vlarsch, who was stubbornly following the other Durmstrang students as they were led to a reserved space at the end of the Gryffindor table. Lilike, face shining with pride and tears, followed Professor Kriska to take two seats at the head table, next to the minister for magic, who reached across to shake her hand.

The hall fell silent and the light within the pyramid returned to a piercing silvery-blue. The Beauxbatons students were ushered forwards and the process began again.

Immediately Sam, Vessy, and Lydia turned back to Chiân and Pretoria, plunging straight back into their conversation.

“I’m not letting you go into the Forbidden forest to try to possess a – a, oh for fuck’s sake – Roxanne. You’re in second year, Chiân. You’d get eaten alive before you even found – her.” Sam’s whisper was a vehement hiss.

A voice, thick with the heavy drawl of a southern French accent, rang out. “Aceline Papoutsis presenting herself for champion of Beauxbatons academy.” She stepped back and raised her wand, starting the new line.

“Well what are you gonna do? Stumble around in the dark with your eyes shut, firing spells and hoping one of them hits her?” Chiân shot back to Sam, not immune to the absurdity of referring to a gigantic murderous snake as ‘her’.

“I think you guys should tell a teacher,” said Vessy, her lovely eyes serious and earnest.

Pretoria began to scoff but Chiân cut her off. “I think she’s got a point actually-“

“Carina Conte, candidate for champion of Beauxbatons academy.”

“-remember what Petrarch said in his office?” continued Chiân, barely glancing up as Carina Conte presented herself. “We should give them the information and they can deal with it, but if they don’t-“

“Which they won’t,” spat Sam, her expression bitter, her voice acerbic.

“But they _might_ ,” said Chiân. “And if they don’t, then we make a plan, yeah?”

“Ela De Rosa, candidate for champion of Beauxbatons,” called a throaty voice. It belonged to a beautiful dark skinned girl, who stepped into place with a sly, knowing smile at the ripples she was causing, particularly amongst the male contingent of the Hogwarts students.

“I don’t trust Petrarch even slightly,” said Pretoria, looking darkly up at the headmaster, who was watching the champion ceremony with cheerful enjoyment on his face. “The idiot’s gonna say something like ‘oh, well, loads of dangerous stuff lives in the forest – we’ll just get the Bruchs to make sure, ah, she stays there’.”

“Peridot Bianchi, candidate for Beauxbaton champion,” said the next girl, voice blunt, face impassive.

“What else lives in the forest?” said Lydia, looking between Pretoria and Sam.

“Giant spiders, apparently,” whispered Sam. “But all kinds of things. It’s one of the reasons Rubeus House and Gardens was established, you know.”

“I am Sylvie Araújo, candidate for champion of Beauxbatons academy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Vessy.

“Well the forest is a haven of magical creatures who can’t thrive in muggle places,” Sam explained quietly to them all. “Rubeus House and Gardens was set up to care for all the endangered animals that live there, because really it takes a whole team to keep up with it all.”

It was now time for the Beauxbatons boys. The first, a sandy-haired, bright-eyed guy, rushed forwards eagerly. “Grenier Urbanos, presenting for candidate of champion of the Beauxbatons,” he said, his English skewed but enthusiastic.

Chiân was thinking about the forbidden forest, how far it stretched into the horizon along the western side of the grounds. There was part of her that wanted to believe that it would be okay to leave the basilisk buried deep within it. It wasn’t as if anyone but professionals was allowed in anyway.

“Delano Farkas, candidate for champion of Beauxbatons,” said the next student with impressive self-possession and confidence.

“Are you entering, Pretoria?” said Lydia, twisting back to look at the antlered seventh year.

She shook her head, watching the Beauxbatons boys. “Didn’t get through the shortlisting.”

“Hervé Barbieri, presenting as candidate for champion of Beauxbatons academy,” intoned a boy with heavy dark brows and a Spanish accent.

“There was a shortlist?” Chiân asked her.

“Yeah. You’re only allowed to put forward ten candidates per school, so they had to whittle it down,” she grinned a little, as if the run for places amongst the Hogwarts candidates had been enormous.

“Leverette Santos, candidate for champion of Beauxbatons academy.”

The last Beauxbatons student barely waited for Leverette to take his place in the line before announcing himself to the pyramid.

“Remi Matei, candidate for the champion of Beauxbatons,” he said, the same eagerness that the others had shown bordering on greed in his mousey face.

As he took his place beside his fellows, another hush descended, and the light within the monument began to spin.

Again the hall held its breath, and again the ten wands of the ten candidates began to glow with a piercing white light.

In a blast of blues and purples the pyramid burst with light, and so did the wand of Aceline Papoutsis, the very first Beauxbatons student to present herself.

She raised her arms and danced in triumph, her fellow students crowding her as the hall applauded. The other nine showed varying degrees of sincerity as they hugged her, and none came close to the open hostility of Radmila Vlarsch.

Breathlessly Aceline waved out to the applause of the hall, her face lit with delight. She seemed flustered and there was a murmur of amusement as she span on the spot, Monsieur Rizzi calling her to come up to the head table as the others sat down with the Ravenclaws.

This time the silence was palpable. Chiân barely moved, completely intent upon Petrarch, who was getting to his feet.

“It is time…” he paused dramatically, enjoying the absolution of the attention upon him. “To choose a Hogwarts champion. Could our ten candidates please step forwards to the front of the hall.”

Heads flicked around in every direction as ten students rose from the benches. Olivia Hogarth and Sierra Mores-Lamont walked up together from the Gryffindor table, grinning nervously. Behind them came Andrew Foley, his expression solemn but his eyes alight with excitement. The Gryffindors whooped and stomped as they made their way to the front.

From the Ravenclaws, amidst fervent applause, rose Stephanie Westwraith and Scott Mackerell, whom Chiân recognised as one of the chasers on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Chiân saw Shanti giving a yell of encouragement at Steph as she passed.

From Hufflepuff it was Xerxes Diaphany, the handsome black seventh year with dreads, and a sixth year called Zane Busher. Emmeline Humphries, the head girl, joined them at the front, beaming.

“Y’know, Eleanor and Darcy told me a hex the other day that they swear gives your victim a yeast infection,” said Pretoria beneath the wild cheering and applause.

Chiân looked at her in surprise and saw that she was glowering at Emmeline, the head girl.

“Don’t you dare,” said Sam, grinning at her girlfriend.

Before Chiân could ask, Demi Bridges and Davey Heimermann-Priest had risen from the Slytherin table a little way down from them. Pretoria and Sam leapt to their feet with the others to cheer them as they extricated themselves from the benches and made their way to the front.

Davey looked serious and tense, but Demi turned around to wink at Sam and Pretoria, so much glee in her gait that it was almost a strut.

The ten Hogwarts students stood in a row behind the triwizard monument. Everyone knew what was coming now.

One by one, to enthralled quiet that was occasionally ruptured by a whoop of encouragement, they stepped forwards and presented their candidacy.

The silence as Scott Mackerell, the final of the ten, stepped back into line, wand raised, was absolute. The light in the pyramid began to spin. Chiân was bouncing her leg uncontrollably in the painful anticipation of the moment. Sam and Pretoria reached for each other and gripped hands, both staring towards the monument.

A bright gold, shot through with purple and orange and flashes of every colour under the sun erupted from the pyramid, lighting up the hall in its brilliance. With a shout of exultation Xerxes Diaphany raised his wand high so that everybody could see the streaming light coming from it, announcing that he had been chosen Hogwarts Champion.

The euphoria of the Hufflepuffs was infectious, and Chiân found that she couldn’t help grinning as she applauded. Xerxes ran a victory lap all the way down the Hufflepuff tables, slapping the outstretched hands of his house, then back up the other side. Screams and yells and pounding of tables went on for minutes, and Xerxes’ friends leapt on him, jumping up and down.

The other two Hufflepuff candidates, including Emmeline Humphries, looked radiant with joy for him. Even the Gryffindors seemed to be taking it with good-natured nonchalance. Davey looked downright relieved as he made his way back to the Slytherin table, Sam laughing at his expression. Demi gave a modest shrug, waving off the consolation of the others as she sat back down.

It was a little while before anyone could get the Hufflepuffs to settle down enough to let go of Xerxes. In the end Professor Petrarch had to fire a shower of gold sparks out over the heads of the students to call them to attention.

Beaming down at Xerxes and his fellow, ecstatic Hufflepuffs, he called the new Hogwarts champion up to the head table to sit with Aceline and Lilike. Xerxes pushed his dreads out of his face, grin wide, and walked back up the length of the hall with his head held high.

“And there we have it. Our three Triwizard champions,” said Petrarch, and waited for yet another burst of cheering to die down. “Now, there are many quests and details to be discussed, but all that can wait, I think, until after dinner.”

“Hear, hear,” called an approving voice from across the hall, which Chiân suspected was probably Ozzy.

“It is with great delight and a shared sense of excitement at the occasion that I invite you all, now, to join us as we feast.”

And with that, the tables suddenly heaved with noise, plates, cutlery, pumpkin juice, and most of all, food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-eleven-the-champions-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	12. The Guivernian Problem

It was a few days before Chiân managed to make her way to the headmaster’s office to tell him of her suspicions. To her frustration she found that the password had changed. After a few minutes of trying the names of various flowers, and then a few more minutes fruitlessly threatening the wooden griffin with her wand, she turned around and stomped off to find the Bruch’s office.

Chiân knew where it was because she passed it every time she had Transfiguration. She had never been inside, and despite the fact that the door was open she paused, peering in cautiously before knocking.

Almost immediately a voice from behind her said “Hello, Chiân Maeroris. Come in.”

Chiân jumped a little and turned to see Mrs Bruch, tall and powerfully built, gesturing her inside the room.

It was a small office, impeccably ordered with stacks of paper and cabinets full of records and equipment. Mrs Bruch strode in, opening a glass door to hang a pickaxe on its rightful hook, then turned and sat behind the mahogany desk.

Chiân sat in the opposite chair. “Hi, um, it’s about the basilisk.” Mrs Bruch inclined her head but did not speak. Chiân took this as a sign that she should continue. “Well, um, I have a hunch – well, not a hunch – I’m pretty sure actually – it’s in the Forbidden Forest.”

Mrs Bruch was making Chiân nervous and she fidgeted uncomfortably. It was very difficult to look directly into her face, and Chiân found that as soon as she looked away she had no memory of what the groundswoman looked like.

“How do you know this?” she asked eventually.

Chiân had come up with an answer for this. “Well, I was in the owlery the other day and I was looking out towards the forest and I saw these spiders – like, huge ones – running out of the trees and, well, spiders are afraid of the basilisk, aren’t they?”

Mrs Bruch did not respond.

“Um, anyway, I thought that in case you didn’t know it was worth telling you, so that you could, uh, do something about it.”

Chiân forced herself to meet Mrs Bruch’s gaze. It was a long, uncomfortable moment.

“Thank you for letting us know, Chiân Maeroris,” she said at last, breaking the intense stare she had been giving Chiân. “I will inform the headmaster immediately and we shall discuss our next steps. You do not need to worry – this will be taken care of.”

Relief flooded Chiân as she hurried back down to the common room. It crashed around in her, washing out the dread that had been her constant companion for several months now. She was grinning when she arrived back in the Slytherin chamber, ready to give the good news to her friends.

Over the next month Chiân almost managed to forget about the basilisk, though she would occasionally lie awake at nights wondering if they had caught it yet, feeling inexplicably sad for the death of such a fascinating creature.

The first task was set for the first of December, and the three champions spent the build-up being heralded as celebrities everywhere they went. Xerxes Diaphany was never seen without a harem of adoring girls, laughing at his every word and clamouring for his attention. He had an earnest, endearing manner which made even the other, slighted Hogwarts candidates feel inclined to rally their support around him.

Chiân and Lydia had been sat with Dreya and some of the other fourth years in the common room one afternoon while Vessy was out at quidditch practice. Demi walked past and Dreya’s friend Jada had called out to her.

“Hey, Demi! I’m sorry you didn’t get champion.”

Demi laughed. “Honestly I’m not surprised. I think there may have been riots if we’d had a Slytherin champion.”

Lydia and Chiân exchanged guilty grins, and Demi moved on. It was true that the Slytherins had not been the most popular house to begin with, but since the rampant rumours of the basilisk had picked up speed they had been downright shunned by the other students.

This dislike was particularly evident on the quidditch pitch. Despite the fact that there was no cup being held that year and every match was, at least in name, a ‘friendly’, the competitive spirit was no less virulent in the days before each game.

Chiân didn’t really care much. She hadn’t bothered going to the Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor game, instead spending a quiet hour up in the owlery, writing a letter to her parents and practising controlling the owls as they soared out over the grounds.

She went to the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff game though, just for the joy of watching Vessy fly. The night the champions had been chosen Vessy had flown into a temper and demanded that Chiân tell her the whole story of her excursions in the Willoughby mansion. The three girls had not gone to bed until nearly four in the morning, by which time Vessy had quieted into a sort of thoughtful astonishment while Lydia and Chiân discussed Baba Buku and the magic of Veela.

Chiân knew it had been hard for Vessy, hearing how she had broken Vessy’s family rules, had imposed herself, and had formed a relationship with Vessy’s grandmother in a few short days when Vessy herself was barely allowed to speak of her. Chiân had thrown herself into being Vessy’s biggest supporter as a sort of recompense for this, as well as deep gratitude for Vessy’s obvious efforts not to be angry with her.

Vessy was a very talented flyer. She was superbly co-ordinated and cut a sleek, beautiful figure through the teams as she wove in and out, looking for the snitch. The joy on her face as she flew made Chiân’s heart leap for her, and she and Lydia had screamed and cheered when, only twenty minutes in, Vessy had executed a perfect hairpin turn, one arm on the broom, one outstretched in the air, and caught the snitch.

The Durmstrang students were proving to be fairly sociable, though in the case of Radmila Vlarsch and Cassimir Dulikov this seemed to be because their own classmates had grown sick of them complaining about Lilike, so they had turned to the Hogwarts students for commiseration. The Beauxbatons bunch were a little more reserved, though Chiân did see a few of the girls walking around with Shanti and some of the older Ravenclaws. Chiân suspected that both groups had been warned against befriending the Slytherins, though this did not deter all of them.

Arriving for dinner a week before the first task Chiân, Vessy, and Lydia had spotted Zorah, Anton, and Janus sat with the seventh year Slytherins. Not wanting to seem too obvious they sat a little along the benches from them, listening eagerly to the conversation.

“But you are sure you are not knowing where it is?” Anton was saying, sounding beseeching.

The Slytherins shook their heads.

“The last time it was opened was like nearly a century ago, I think, by Harry Potter, who you’ve probably heard of,” said Paul.

“Ah yes. He is killing the Dark Lord?” asked Janus.

“Yeah, that’s the one-“

“Potter didn’t open it, Paul. It was You Know Who – he possessed one of the students, remember?” corrected Sam.

“But yeah, nobody has been able to find it since. They destroyed the old entrance,” said Demi with obvious regret.

“It is a shame,” said Zorah agreeably. Her English was slightly better than Anton and Janus’s, but her accent just as thick. “Durmstrang castle does not have so many secret chambers. We have been there for seven years and we have found every passageway and hall, I think.”

“And what of this giant snake?” pressed Anton, looking excited. He leant in and lowered his voice. As one, Chiân, Lydia, and Vessy shifted ever so slightly up the bench so that they could continue to listen. “It is a good idea in my opinion to stamp out on the muggleborn ones – they would never have been allowed to be at Durmstrang Institute!”

If he had thought that he was speaking to a group of sympathetic blood purists then he was sorely mistaken.

Pretoria raised her eyebrows, and Sam, reaching her ever-staggering heights of contempt and venom, leant forwards on one hand, staring at him from her one working eye. “And why, dear Anton, would that be?”

He blinked a little at her tone, but seemed to assume that he had misinterpreted the danger in it. “Well, they are not _true_ wizards-“

“Yeah, you’re on thin ice there, mate,” said Paul, leaning back a little as he looked at Sam.

Chiân saw Pretoria move an arm beneath the table and she knew she was gripping Sam’s leg, trying to calm her before she hexed the ruddy-faced Durmstrang boy.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Slytherin house, Nimrod, or whatever your name is,” said Pretoria, “but we don’t hold with that kind of racist bullshit anymore.”

Anton Nemitz looked deeply wrongfooted. Awkwardly he looked at Zorah and Janus for support. Chiân was supressing a grin, listening hard as she ate her casserole.

“We are not meaning any offenses,” said Zorah quickly. “There is strong policy at Durmstrang school and each new student must pass many test to get entrance.”

Anton, it seemed, could not keep his mouth shut. “I was under an impression,” he growled, “that you Slytherins would understand. I am seeing that I am mistaking this. Perhaps you yourself are mudblo-“

His pompous, cold tone broke off and the three second year girls looked up to see Sam on her feet. She pulled out her wand and pointed it directly into his face.

Pretoria rose quickly, one hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. The Durmstrang boys looked deeply alarmed, and Zorah embarrassed.

Chiân was impressed to hear that Sam’s voice was perfectly calm and perfectly deadly as she spoke. “You can take your blood status, and you can shove it up your prejudice, incestuous, purity-fetishising arse, or you can leave now before I curse you so badly that you won’t be able to continue your bloodline.”

Anton’s face was a comical mask of shock. Quite a few people were turning around to watch the standoff, but only those closest had heard what Sam said. Janus tugged on his friend’s arm and muttered something in their native tongue.

Watching Sam warily they both stumbled from the benches and rushed to sit with some of their fellows at the Ravenclaw table. Sam sank back into her seat, glowering at Zorah, who raised her hands apologetically, asking for peace.

“I am sorry,” said Zorah, sighing. “Anton is… I do not know the English word – he is _cyka blyat_ ”

Her expression left them all with no need to translate, and Pretoria chuckled as she sat back down.

All lessons were cancelled on the day of the first task, but Chiân woke up at half past six anyway, the stars on the ceiling of the dorm glistening with dawn light. The excitement was blistering by lunchtime, and Chiân, Lydia, and Vessy joined the boys in taking their lunch out in napkins and heading out to the quidditch pitch early.

It was a cold morning, and the sun had barely melted the frost from the grounds as they left the castle. The air was clear and bright, and Chiân was huddled up in the thick coat her parents had brought her the previous year for Christmas.

The stands were already half-filled with students, though the task did not start for another hour. Chiân sat between Egan and Lydia, watching wizards and witches running around on the pitch below. In the centre of the arena were three towering structures, currently hidden by white drapes that could have concealed an entire street.

The buzz was that the task was some kind of puzzle problem which the champions would have to solve without wands.

“I bet you could do it, Firebug,” said Benji, turning around from the row in front as they talked excitedly about it.

“What d’you mean?” said Chiân.

“Because you can do magic without a wand!” he said eagerly.

“Can you still do that?” said Egan, ever sceptical.

“Let’s find out,” Chiân grinned. She took her wand out of her robes and handed it to Lydia. She hadn’t tried to perform any spells without it at least somewhere about her person, but she was confident that she could.

She glanced around and spotted Kaitlin and Alec a few rows down from them, both eating chips from napkins in their laps.

Chiân focused in on the chips, reaching for that inward axis of power which did not correspond to a limb or physical movement. One of the chips flew up into the air, unnoticed by the two fourth years, and Chiân pulled it towards her, snatching it out of the air and eating it to the cheers of her friends.

Practising moving through the grounds in the eyes of various birds and creatures had only strengthened Chiân’s certainty that wand movements and incantations were merely tools, just like the wand. Still though it was easier with a wand, thought Chiân, taking hers from Lydia and tucking it behind her ear.

She laughed with the others as Calix and Kyril strained comically, trying to do magic without their wands with no success. She felt more content in that moment than she had done all term.

At quarter past twelve there came a roaring cheer from the entrance to the pitch. The Slytherins craned around each other to see Xerxes walking at the front of a large group of wildly yelling Hufflepuffs. They clapped him on the back as he left them, making his way out onto the pitch and walking to the tournament staff who were sat at a desk, ready to prep him for the task.

Aceline arrived a few minutes later, looking proud and determined. The Beauxbatons students were following her like a procession, chanting some kind of French fight song as they waved her off and veered out to the stands.

Lilike arrived with only fifteen minutes to go, flanked by as many Hogwarts students as Durmstrang students, all loud and excited. She looked much younger than the other two champions, petite, pale and blonde, but Chiân knew she had to be at least seventeen.

All three champions were wearing bright, bold colours. Xerxes was in the bold Hufflepuff yellow, a black H on the back of his robes. Even from the stands his smile was dazzling as he waved up to the cheering students. Aceline was in a sky blue robe studded with stars which glinted and formed a ‘B’ on her back. Lilike’s robes were a deep red, the colour of blood. Somehow they made her look even smaller.

With only five minutes to go the three champions moved, each walking to stand before a different tall white-clothed tower. A booming voice cut through the excitement of the crowd. Chiân looked around to see a cheerful looking wizard in green and purple robes sitting in the commentary box. His voice was magnified so that it carried jubilantly to every corner.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, good people of Hogwarts, _welcome_ … to the First Task.”

Chiân whooped and clapped with the rest as the white drapes which covered the towering shapes rippled into nothing. As tall as a block of flats and as wide as a house stood three enormous, clear glass structures that were shaped like hourglasses, curving in at the middle to a narrow passage, then widening out to a top that was as huge as the base. Inside each hourglass was a huge, graceful plant, circled with wide, striped leaves.

Cries of awe ran through the watching students. Chiân was looking around for a bird she could borrow to have a closer look when Vessy elbowed her, pointing towards the far end of the pitch.

“Look!” she said in wonder, as the commentator spoke again.

“We will be using flocklings to give you folks a better view of the action, as you can see now-“ across the hoops at either end of the quidditch pitch were stretched two wide circles of canvas. A flurry of small golden birds had been released from the tournament staff below, and they flew up and out, circling the giant hourglass structures. The circles flickered with shapes which solidified into a literal bird’s eye view as the flocklings projected what they could see onto the two screens on the pitch.

“That’s like what you can do,” said Lydia over the noise, grinning at Chiân. Chiân was thinking of Asher’s parents and their enthusiasm for the combined powers of the muggle and wizarding world. She wondered what they would say about the miniature magical camera crew now flying loops around the hourglasses. She looked around for Asher in the stands, spotting him with the other Gryffindor second years.

The commentator was speaking again. “I am Royston Stanley-Clamp, but you can call me Roy.” He laughed good-naturedly and Calix turned around to them, his face lit up with enthusiasm.

“He’s the guy who commentates the Quidditch world cup matches! He used to be a really famous keeper!” He said, and the girls laughed at how much more interesting this seemed to him.

“I will be your commentator for the tournament, providing you with all the juiciest insider info.” Roy’s voice bounced impressively around the crowd, who were quieting in anticipation. “Our first task, ready to begin in three minutes, is a challenge called ‘The Guivernian Problem’,” he said, and Chiân’s eyes widened in recognition of the name.

“As you can see on the screens, each hourglass here contains a Guivernia plant – very rare, very impressive specimens.” On the screens was a close view of the tall, thick-stemmed plants, the wide-brimmed, striped leaves moving gently with what seemed to be the quivering of incredibly fast growth. The plants were about fifteen foot tall, stretching up through the narrow gaps of the enormous glass structures.

Roy named the champions who waited before each hourglass, and led the crowd in giving them a cheer, one by one. Then up on the screens appeared a countdown.

Each champion raised an arm and walked forwards until they were touching the perfectly clear glass before them. The crowd cheered and counted down with Roy, screaming the last ten seconds.

“Let the first task… begin!” roared Roy, and with a shimmer of blue light each champion was pulled forwards, appearing on the other side of the glass. Xerxes’s face appeared on one of the screens. He looked determined and alert, focusing on the towering plant in front of him.

“Now that our champions are in their hourglasses, let me tell you all a little more about this challenge.” And Roy explained that the three champions had left their wands with the judges, who were the witches and wizards sat at the desk on one side of the pitch. He also told them that from inside the glass domes the champions could neither hear nor see anything that was happening outside.

“It’s just them and the plants,” he said, relish in his voice. “The challenge for our champions is to retrieve a scroll, which is hidden somewhere inside the hourglass with them. Now, the remarkable thing about the Guivernia plant is that it is ‘chronoplasmic’, which is a big fancy word meaning that it grows and then _ungrows –_ if you look carefully you can already see it happening. Oho, he’s going for it!”

Xerxes strode forwards and grabbed the base of the plant, clearly intending to start climbing it. As soon as he touched it one of the enormous leaves of the plant curled towards him, forming a tight, sharp roll.

“As you can see, the Guivernia has some pretty effective defensive mechanisms! Each of those leaves has at its end a sharp thorn about the size of a beater’s bat, when fully grown!” Xerxes had jumped back and was now being chased by the stabbing, furled leaf until he was right up against the glass again. In the next hourglass along Lilike was experiencing a similar issue, though she had anticipated the attack as the leaves curled towards her and had backed away without touching it.

“You can see Xerxes Diaphany, the Hogwarts champion, reconsidering that particular choice. He has the right idea, though! Any moment now the Guivernias will flower – truly something to behold, a Guivernia in full bloom – and an incredibly rare sight, so cherish this! Drink it in, everybody! Ah, here we go – look there, at Lilike Telep’s!”

Chiân leant forwards, making a soft noise of amazement that was lost in the swell of the crowd. First Lilike’s plant, then the other two soon after, grew from its highest point a bud, which swelled to the size of a bonfire even as they watched. Stuck at the bottom of their hourglasses the champions were all staring up at the buds, which were blossoming open into radiant, iridescent flowers, with petals of every colour, glistening and quivering as they stretched out, filling the top half of the hourglasses.

“Right there in the middle of each flower you can see the scrolls which our champions are after. Miss Papoutsis, of Beauxbatons Academy, is having a good think there in her hourglass. You have to wonder what’s going through her head right now!”

Aceline had crouched down and was simply staring upwards, hands clasped together like she was praying. Unseen by Aceline, in the next hourglass over Lilike was pacing quickly in a circle around the base of the Guivernia plant.

“While our champions come to terms with their puzzle let me tell you a little more about these fantastic plants. They are tricky to care for, but not because they take up space – they take up _time_. Watch now as the petals start to close – oh, there goes Mr Diaphany’s – and Miss Telep’s! Once those buds have shut back up that scroll will be impossible to reach.”

Aceline had stood up quickly as the flower high above her began to close again. She too began to pace.

“The Guivernia plant does not die, but nor can they ever be planted. Their seeds, known as ‘pods’ do not grow new plants – instead they contain one of the most valuable and powerful magical substances known to the wizarding world. The jelly of the Guivernian pod reverses time, you see – or the effects of time. It is thought by most leading herbologists that the unpicked Guivernian pod will decay in the centre of the flower and it is this that makes the plant recede backwards in just the same way it has grown.”

Chiân was twisting around in her seat to find Pretoria. Both she and Sam were already looking at Chiân, grinning. Less than a year ago Pretoria’s life had been saved by the contents of a Guivernian pod, which had been given to Chiân by a demiguise named Boba. Chiân had gifted him one half of the shell at their parting. She wished she had her half of the shell on her now, but it was back in her dorm room, somewhere in her case.

“These plants have, of course, been neutered, their pods replaced with the champions’ scrolls – but only temporarily. Each hourglass has been enchanted to stimulate that same turning point for the plant which makes it ungrow once it is at full bloom. After this task the good people of the department of magical botany will be replacing the pods – aha, Xerxes is going to have another stab at the climb – quite literally, if he’s not careful! Oh, that was a close one – ah!”

Roy interrupted himself to commentate keenly as Xerxes grabbed once more at the plant. Watching the bud close high above him had seemed to steel his resolve, and this time he did not leap back as a leaf curled and jabbed at him. Instead he grabbed at it, diverting it before it could spear him, then ducked another leaf as he tried to climb higher.

The plant seemed to be able to feel him and its leaves thrashed with more fury as he made his determined way up the stalk. Roy was shouting and narrating every slash at an arm or smack across the face, and Xerxes was taking quite a few of them. One jabbing leaf caught him in the square of the back and he let out an obvious cry of pain which nobody could hear. He did not let go, though, and made a valiant leap around the other side of the stalk, climbing still higher, clearly hoping that the speed of his movements would be enough to avoid the leaves.

“Is he going to make it before that bud disappears, though? I think not, ladies and gentlemen, I think not!” Roy was right and Xerxes seemed to know it. He had climbed high enough now that he was facing the problem of how to squeeze through the narrow neck of the hourglass which was almost completely blocked by the thick stem of the plant. Feet above him but completely unreachable the bud was shrinking. Now it was the size of a basketball, then a melon, and then it was almost invisible, and the stalk was melting slowly downwards, the bud subsumed back into the flesh of the Guivernia plant.

As each plant shrank downwards Lilike made a similar attempt at climbing, but once more gave up as the first leaf curled towards her. Aceline had still not touched hers. The stems had now shrunk enough that Xerxes could climb through the passage which connected the two domes of the hourglass.

“And he’s made it to the top – a heroic effort! Those cuts and bruises should heal right up once he’s finished here, don’t worry. I think our Hogwarts champion plans to sit and wait at that lip there until his Guivernia plant rises back up to greet him – not a bad plan, but – aha – here comes the big twist!”

And Roy had meant it literally. As soon as the Guivernia plants had shrunk below the midway point of the neck each hourglass lurched into movement, turning through the air, upending itself. All three champions fell, the two girls letting out inaudible shrieks as they scrambled and slid down the sloping sides of what was now the top half of the hourglass. Aceline made a grab for the receding Guivernia stalk as she fell towards the hole of the neck, but it was now dangling from the top of the hourglass, out of her reach and still shrinking.

Xerxes had only just failed to cling onto the lip of the top dome as he was spun upside down, but the curve into the narrowest point was too smooth. With a slightly nasty-looking thud he had fallen smack down into the new, empty bottom half of his hourglass. After a tense moment in which the crowd and Roy worried loudly, he turned over and pushed himself into a sitting position. He stared up at the plant, now only the height of a human, hanging high above him, completely unreachable. His expression was one of bewilderment.

“Yes, the glasses will be turning every couple of minutes for these three, slowly increasing in frequency the longer they take to reach their scroll. For now though I think we have a few moments in which I can give you a bit of the thinking behind this task.” Roy was saying cheerfully in the pause as everyone watched the champions re-evaluate their challenge.

“The true ‘Guivernian Problem’, of course, is a famous philosophical question, first posed by renowned warlock and sorcerer Betrus Russleman. If you’ll forgive a bit of a history lesson, the issue at the centre of Russleman’s problem is that age-old favourite question: death. Is life simply a process to be undone? Is every action in time as reversible as the Guivernia plant makes it seem? What you’re watching today, right in front of us, is three of the best and brightest of our generation trying to grapple with the blossoming and the undoing of opportunity.”

“Of course,” Roy gave a self-depreciating chuckle. “Explaining the symbolism really strips it of its elegance. Now you can see that the plants have reached their smallest point, barely rooted in at the top there-“ Chiân peered at one of the screens which showed a stalk the size of a house plant, bearing a few tender, palm-sized leaves, dangling from the centre of the uppermost glass.

“In the wild the Guivernia plant grows much more slowly than you are seeing here,” Roy continued cheerfully, as if this were a Herbology lesson and not a triwizard tournament task, “They are thought to have psychomantic links to their surroundings. If a Guivernia plant is growing somewhere close to your village, and it starts to get smaller again then that’s a sign that your village is coming to the end of its prime. And should you ever see a Guivernia at the size it is now, growing as these in front of us are starting to do once more, you can use the speed of its growth as a measure for how long your new phase of life, or project or relationship, is going to last. Ooh, here we go. Let’s see how our champions handle this next turn!”

Once more the hourglasses began to spin, swooping back to their original positions. Each stalk was just reaching the neck, leaving the passage empty and ready to be fallen through. Roy gasped and exclaimed as Xerxes and Lilike each tried to prevent themselves falling through the narrow gap. Xerxes, lifting his legs as he slid down the now inverted dome, managed to spread himself across the gap, grinning as he lay across the entrance. It seemed to be costing him some physical effort not to fall through.

Lilike had not been so successful. She scrambled as she slipped through the hole, not quite managing to gain purchase on the smooth glass neck of the gigantic hourglass. She made a valiant grab for the fine tip of the plant as she fell, grasping it with an outstretched hand. For a roaring moment the entire crowd thought she’d done it, but then Chiân was grabbed by a screeching Lydia, nearly missing the heart-stopping moment when the Guivernia plant, pulling back with a shuddering motion, bent double. Lilike was clinging to the tip of the stem as the plant began to shake her off, swinging back and forth with increasing violence. The entire stadium joined in the yell as Lilike was finally dislodged and went flying, smacking the inside of the glass and sliding to the bottom, blood smearing down the glass from where she’d hit it.

“Ohh, that’s got to have hurt like a Sunday-morning splinching!” cried Roy. Lydia was on her feet yelling and Chiân joined her, both of them forgetting the screens and peering down into the hourglass at Lilike’s unmoving body, slumped in the bottom of the dome. “And yes, there are the medics, going in to check on her – Merlin’s beard, that’s a lot of blood!”

Gasps ran through the audience as one of the flocklings threw onto the screens a shot which showed blood pouring from the back of Lilike’s head. It soaked into her already deep red robes and made them darker. Two figures in white robes were running to her hourglass, each raising a hand and passing through the glass with that same flash of light. They hurried over to her and pulled out their wands.

“And there you can see them reviving her – will Miss Telep feel up to continuing the task? Or will this constitute an understandable forfeit!” There was a pause. Every eye was on Lilike, now conscious, as the medics gently probed her skull and performed some wandwork over the source of the bleeding. There was a moment of serious exchange, then Lilike shook her head vehemently, pushing away from them, and got to her feet. A great cheer went up – even the Beauxbatons students seemed exultant as the medics exited the glass and Roy cried that Lilike was indeed going to persevere with her task.

“What spirit that girl has shown! But in all this excitement we’ve lost sight of how our other champions are doing-“ even as Roy was saying it Calix pointed to Xerxes’ glass, shouting excitedly. His Guivernia plant was now several feet through the neck, with Xerxes successfully having remained in the top half of his hourglass. He was playing a dangerous game of dodge, rolling and scrabbling up the steep curve of the glass to avoid the leaves which were just beginning to get him in range as they grew.

“But where is Miss Aceline Papoutsis?” shouted Roy. Chiân looked around at the third hourglass. She could see the people in the stands doing the same, the bewilderment in each face shared by Roy as he spoke. “Her Guivernia plant is thriving in its glass, but suddenly it seems that it is entirely alone in there! Can anyone see where our Beauxbatons champion has got to?”

Aceline’s glass did indeed seem completely empty, save for the now towering, trunk-like stem of the plant. It was almost at the height it had been when the task began. At the other side of the pitch Xerxes was battling with several leaves, taking gash after gash on his arms and hands as he grabbed and blocked. Lilike was pacing again, and every eye was on the eerily empty third glass.

“Maybe she apparated?” cried a student several rows behind Chiân. She heard someone else yell back that you needed a wand to apparate, and then a third voice protest that it was impossible on Hogwarts grounds. Before Chiân had time to wonder if maybe Aceline could achieve things like apparition without a wand and against the enchantments of Hogwarts school, a scream of excitement rose from a block of Ravenclaws several balustrades over.

“Some of you seem to have spotted her – aha!” Roy shouted triumphantly as one of the flocklings swooped around the base of the third hourglass. “There she is, folks. And she must have crawled in there quickly while we were all worrying about Miss Telep!”

High on the screens Chiân could see glimpses of a blue robe, huddled around the very base of the Guivernia plant. The leaves at the bottom were thick and extended on stems the size of tree branches. They did not seem to be attacking her, and Chiân thought maybe they wouldn’t have been able to bend back in far enough now that she was right at the centre.

“I think Miss Papoutsis’ plan is to hang on as her glass turns – we’ll see how that goes for her, especially considering the fight going on over there with Mr Diaphany!”

A fight it was indeed, thought Chiân. In the few minutes of inaction where Roy had decided to give them all a philosophy lecture Chiân had thought that maybe this task was not going to prove very good viewing, but now she didn’t know where to look. There was Xerxes, dodging and snapping leaves as he tried to climb the top half of his Guivernia plant, but Chiân barely wanted to take her eyes off of the well-concealed Aceline in case she missed the moment when the glass began to turn again. And in the middle was Lilike, whose hourglass was smeared with blood that still dripped from her robes. The red of her robes mirrored the red pools and smears of blood and it drew the eye as Chiân looked from one hourglass to another.

The Guivernia plants were near to blooming again. The two in Aceline and Lilike’s hourglasses were waving gently near the very top now, a slight swelling where the bud would again burst into firey bloom. Xerxes’ plant was a little too busy to have reached quite the same height, but still at the very tip there was a head forming, a green lump already the size of a basketball. Xerxes was very close to it, his knees and ankles gripping the top of the stem, still furiously deflecting the tightly coiled leaves which curled around to spear him.

“He’s gonna make it! He’s gonna do it!” Egan was screeching on Chiân’s other side. Lydia was still worrying about Lilike, egging her on with excitement as if the Durmstrang champion could hear her just as clearly as Chiân could.

The buds were swelling larger and larger. Lilike remained stuck at the bottom of her glass and Aceline was now completely obscured by the thick base foliage of the plant. Every eye was on Xerxes, Roy calling out how close he was, praising his valiant efforts against the ever-hostile leaves. Only feet above him the bud began to open. Distracted, Xerxes looked up at it, and in that second a spear-tipped leaf slashed at his ankles. He let out a shout that the crowd could not hear and fell as the flower bloomed, getting hit and batted away by leaves until he was back on the sloping side of the top half of his hourglass.

Groans came from around the stadium, with desperate cries of encouragement from the Hufflepuffs. The flowers were opening now, and Chiân was not alone in taking her eyes away from Xerxes’s renewed, vigorous climbing just to gaze in wonder at the colours. It was like a sunset, Chiân thought, all the glory and colour and fire rising out from a single stem of a single plant.

“Now there for the second time, right in the middle there, you can see the scrolls that our champions are after! Mr Diaphany has come close – maybe closest – but if he doesn’t grab it in the next minute or two then that blossom is going to start unblossoming, and that scroll will be swallowed back into the bud! Is he gonna make it?” Roy boomed. Xerxes was clearly tiring, though, and this time only made it halfway up to the base of the bloom before a leaf, rolled like a spiked club, slapped at him so hard he seemed to get winded. He clung on though, head under an arm, limbs locked around the stem as the plant batted at him angrily.

“Ah, I don’t think he’s quite going to make it this time around – you can see there on the screens how the edges of those fantastic flowers are already beginning to curl back…”

He was right. Frustrated, some of them even booing, the crowd sank back with a groan of disappointment as the buds began to close, the process beginning again.

Xerxes also seemed to think his window had been missed, because he raised his head, assessing his situation, then gave a great push from the stalk, jumping out onto the glass just where it started to slope inwards.

Roy joined the audience’s sighs, musing for a moment or two on what might be going through Lilike’s significantly bloodied head as she paced in wide circles around the base of her plant.

Nothing else seemed to happen for a moment. Xerxes was balanced carefully in his upper dome, clearly preparing to slip quickly through the neck as the next turn approached. Lilike paced, face creased in a blood-stained frown, and Aceline remained where she was, wrapped determinedly around the base of her Guivernia plant.

The stems were receding, the buds now closed and shrinking gradually back into the size of basketballs, then melons, then barely discernible lumps at the very end, which now only extended a few metres from the curved necks of the structures.

“Get ready everybody for the third turn of the task – our Hogwarts champion knows what’s coming! He’s sliding back to the middle there – showing some caution – can’t blame him, he’s been duelling hard with those leaves! And, any minute now…” the stadium was hushed as the stems waved ever downwards. Aceline was becoming more and more visible, curled up on the floor of her hourglass beneath the now receding leaves.

Chiân suddenly wondered what was holding the plants in – if they were potted, or simply stuck there with a charm that prevented them falling when the glasses reversed.

“Here we go!” called Roy, and Chiân turned back to watch Xerxes execute a careful, calculated movement past the tip of the Guivernia plant as his hourglass turned, pushing himself through the neck in the very second it was horizontal, and quickly flattening out to prevent himself falling through the hole, now lying rigid, staring upwards at the shrinking plant above him.

“He’s gonna have to hold that position for a little longer – that’ll test his core strength!” said Roy cheerfully. “And – oho – now we’ll see what Miss Papoutsis is made of!” In the third hourglass Aceline was clinging on for dear life at the very top of her hourglass. She was easy to see now, arms and legs locked around the shrinking base of the Guivernia plant. Roy was commenting on the redness in her face, the shaking of her limbs and the obvious effort it was costing her to hang there, gripping a plant that was now about the same size as the yuccas in the Slytherin common room.

“Miss Telep still seems stumped, though I’m sure she’s keen not to execute a repeat of – galloping gargoyles!” Roy bellowed suddenly and nobody had to strain to see why. Aceline had kicked off from the roof of her hourglass – not downwards, but around. She seemed to be unscrewing the plant, and in one astonishing, almost fluid movement the base of the plant came free, and she fell, still clutching it, down through the top half of her hourglass.

Roy barely had time to describe what was happening as she hurtled downwards gracefully, the Guivernia plant in her arms now the size of a houseplant. Aceline rushed towards the neck of the hourglass, and the crowd took a sharp, collective breath. She seemed to make no effort to stop herself though, and she slid through the hole out into the dome beneath, a look of utmost concentration on her face. She landed hard, bending her legs neatly but rolling in a way which made Roy pay an impressed compliment to her athleticism.

And then, to stadium-wide astonishment, she picked herself up, the baby plant tucked under her arm, and walked right to the centre of the hourglass. She knelt down and decisively placed the plant right in the middle, again repeating the same screwing motion.

“Merlin’s beard, what a stroke of genius. Incredible! For those who are unsure what’s just happened, the Guivernia plant has roots that grow and shrink just like the rest of it, folks. Our Beauxbatons champion clearly knows this, and has effectively re-planted her specimen on the opposite end of the glass. She must have realised – or, well – observed, I suppose – that it was rooted into the structure itself, which has been designed in its very material to accommodate for the growing and shrinking roots which bind it into the magical glass there. Very smart thinking, _very_ sharp from Miss Papoutsis!”

Chiân joined in the applause, as much in awe at Aceline’s superb execution of her plan as the idea itself.

“Of course, this is going to make it very easy for Aceline to get her scroll when the time comes!” said Roy, before returning to admire the stamina of Xerxes, who was still holding himself in the neck of his hourglass.

Aceline seated herself, somewhat smugly, out of whacking reach in the corner of her dome, and waited. Sure enough in barely ten minutes’ time the plants had begun to grow again – two of them hanging down from the highest point of their hourglasses, and one of them rising from the ground, reaching happily through the air up towards the neck.

Lilike was ready this time for the turn, and managed to emulate Xerxes by sliding over the opening and holding herself there with furious determination, securing her place in the new top dome of her hourglass. Xerxes had made it back through successfully, looking ready for his next battle with the murderous leaves.

Aceline had slid with ease through her hourglass, not landing quite so painlessly this time, but settling all the same beneath the fifteen-foot stalk which now hung down from above her, a satisfied grin on her face.

Roy was giving a literal blow-by-blow commentary as Xerxes and Lilike both entered into a game of dodge around the neck of the hourglass. Chiân only had eyes for Aceline. She was sat, cross-legged and easy, directly beneath where the Guivernia plant was pointing as it expanded downwards. Chiân was deeply impressed by the girl’s arrogant cool.

Sure enough the buds began to swell. Xerxes was ready this time, determination in his face as he shinned up the stem, working slowly but surely through the leaves, battling and deflecting, taking hits and avoiding slicing blows, poising himself directly beneath the now basketball-sized growth. Lilike had not begun her climb. She seemed to be waiting for the absolute last moment. She was much smaller than Xerxes and was having an easier time holding herself further up the sloping glass, out of harm’s way.

The buds had reached their greatest size. Colour began to appear at their tips as they slowly, gracefully, began to bloom for the third time. Lilike had pushed up as far as she could, crouched with her back to the glass, her elbows and feet propping her right at the top of the curve. As the bud shivered open she seemed to coil herself, then took a graceful leap towards the stalk, grabbing it and starting to climb quickly as the leaves rolled towards her.

Xerxes was at the base of the flower as it opened, several rolled leaves smacking him repeatedly, but he did not shift. Lilike reached hers just as it fanned into its fullest bloom.

Chiân, like everyone around her, was on her feet, Roy’s frantic commentary barely audible above the screams of every person in the stands. It was going to be incredibly close. Both Xerxes and Lilike were struggling to make it over the thick underbelly of the flower, trying to capitalise on the scant minute the scroll would be available to grab.

Chiân only had eyes for Aceline. As the flower opened to its fullest she got to her feet, bathed in the radiance of the colours which hung above her like the world’s most glorious chandelier. That same perfect smile on her face, she held out a hand. At the same moment Lilike broke through the underside of her flower, seconds before Xerxes pulled himself over the lip of his.

Before either of the other champions had caught their breath, Aceline’s flower opened completely, and the scroll, released from the centre, fell the few remaining feet into her outstretched and waiting hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-twelve-the-guivernian-problem-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	13. Below the Ice

The first task ended in rapturous applause as the champions exited their hourglasses. Xerxes and Lilike looked dazed, each covered in various scratches and gashes and, in Lilike’s case, copious amounts of blood. They both blinked in a dazed way at Aceline, who looked pristine beside them. She held her scroll up high, her chin raised proudly as she nodded and waved to the crowd as if all cheers were for her.

Xerxes had reached his scroll seconds before Lilike, but Lilike was awarded a slightly higher number of points for her perseverance in the face of reasonably extreme injury. Aceline came a clean first by about fifteen points, setting her at the head of the competition.

Chiân and Lydia clutched each other in excitement as Roy announced the second task to the audience. Upon each of the champions’ scrolls was a short, bold-lettered prompt. The champions held them up one by one and they flashed up on the screens.

Aceline’s said “biggest”.

Lilike’s read “brightest”.

Xerxes was “most beautiful”.

“Our champions, from the first of January onwards, will have three months to build and create a piece of magic which fulfils this description. Points will be awarded for creativity, originality, and complexity of the magic. Each of you,” he addressed the champions, beaming down at them from the commentary stand, “will be given free rein to interpret your scrolls as you see fit, and on the first of April we will all gather here once more to give you a chance to demonstrate whatever it is you have created! After today’s display of courage, perseverance, and of course staggering ingenuity,” he bowed to Aceline, who acknowledged a few cheers with a toss of her black hair. “I for one cannot wait to see what you come up with! Until then, champions, good show, and good luck!”

Vessy hopped up the seats to walk out of the stands with Chiân and Lydia, looking put out. “you know they’re being given the pitch as a work area until April? We can’t even practice, and there aren’t going to be any matches at all,” she whined.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a cup,” said Lydia unsympathetically and Vessy pouted.

“How do you know they’re using the pitch?” said Chiân as they followed the boys down the steps.

“Pretoria told us at the last practice.”

Chiân expressed her sympathy, but then got caught up in reliving the task with the two of them, marvelling again at Aceline’s superb fall from the ceiling of her hourglass.

Chiân wrote home that week, penning a very hefty letter which gave her parents an excited recounting of the task, and ending with a plea to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. There was reportedly going to be a ball on the first full day of the break, and while the second years were too young to attend Chiân didn’t want to miss a second of the partying that was sure to happen around the event.

Xerxes, it was reported by every female in the castle boundaries, had asked Emmeline Humphries to be his date to the ball. Dreya excitedly reported this news after lessons on the last Wednesday of term, to a huddle of students sat in the common room. Chiân was working on a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay about hexes which she had already made twice as long as it needed to be. She had not been able to resist including several paragraphs about non-verbal duelling and its implications for recognising jinxes.

“Oh my god, school champion and Head Girl! They’re gonna look so cute together!” squeaked Vessy, splattering ink all over herself as she dropped her quill in excitement.

“I thought they were already a couple?” said Calix, blinking at Dreya as she sat in an armchair next to Kaitlin.

“She’s the one Pretoria hates, right?” said Lydia to Chiân.

“Yeah, she is – been meaning to ask her about that,” said Chiân, looking around the room for Pretoria. Chiân found her at dinner, seating herself next to her and Sam and asking her what Emmeline Humphries had ever done to piss her off.

Pretoria had scowled and gripped her soup spoon, while Sam grinned.

“Oh god was it something really bad?” said Chiân.

“No, she’s just a prissy little b-“

“She’s the one who outed Pret,” said Sam, leaning around her. “But you can’t be too mad,” she said to Pretoria, “because I doubt I’d ever have had the courage to ask you out if she hadn’t told everyone you were gay.”

Pretoria grunted and Sam chuckled at her expression, putting an arm around her. She looked at Chiân and explained, “do you remember Seth Kasper, from Ravenclaw? He graduated last year-“

“He was Ravenclaw captain,” said Pretoria, reluctantly joining in the telling of the story. Chiân nodded, having a vague recollection of a tall, good-looking guy in blue-trimmed quidditch robes.

“He had a massive crush on Pret,” said Sam, still grinning. “Like, years ago, except every girl in school fancied him-“

“Including Emmeline Humphries,” Pretoria’s voice was sour.

“Yes. And she got jealous and ridiculous and started telling everyone that Pret was gay – which I believe was unfounded speculation at the time. So then you challenged her to a duel, didn’t you?”

“What? Why?” said Chiân, laughing.

“We were in fourth year,” said Pretoria, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Y’know, beat her good, get her to shut up,” Pretoria stabbed a bread roll with her fork.

Chiân looked at Sam, who mouthed the words ‘Emmeline won’ and both of them had to look away to keep from laughing. Pretoria was difficult to take seriously when she was sulking. Something about the antlers didn’t help her case.

It seemed that Pretoria’s preferences had not spread to the visiting students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, however. The week leading up to the Christmas break was full of people asking each other to the ball and infuriating trips to bathrooms in which Chiân would have to press through gaggles of giggling – or sobbing – girls talking about the guys who had or had not asked them out.

One morning during break the students found themselves milling in the entrance hall to get out of the slushy, freezing rain outside. One of the Beauxbatons boys – Delano Farkas, according to Lydia, who was good with names – approached Pretoria where she was stood with the other seventh years, Sam as ever by her side.

Vessy had nudged Chiân so hard that it hurt, but before Chiân could complain Vessy had pulled her around and pointed to the scene.

Delano tapped Pretoria on the shoulder, asking her to step away from the group for a moment. Looking tall and, in Chiân’s unweathered opinion, reasonably handsome, Delano got her alone. Chiân could not hear what he said to her over the noise of the crowded hall, but was not exactly left guessing. Pretoria’s jaw dropped and she fell into an expression of such ridiculous astonishment that Chiân, Vessy and Lydia doubled up in laughter.

Delano frowned, looking unsure whether he was being mocked. He spoke again, and Pretoria let out a strange, shrill noise that sounded like a puppy protesting a bath. The other seventh years turned around to look, as well as several surrounding groups of students.

“Look at Sam!” said Lydia, cackling. Sam had stepped up to Pretoria’s side, asked Delano something, and then exploded with laughter.

“Oh my god has he actually asked her out? Oh my god!” Vessy looked like she was going to fall over, and so did Sam. She was howling at the look on Pretoria’s face, desperately trying to control herself so that she could explain to the poor Beauxbatons boy what was going on. Pretoria seemed in no fit state to respond, stuttering and spluttering in complete, bewildered indignation.

Chiân heard Sam, through wheezing gasps of mirth, explain to Delano that they were in fact, very gay, not to mention a couple, and was still apologising to him as he turned and stormed away. Pretoria looked as if she was waking up from a sleep, turning to glare at her girlfriend’s half-laughing face. Sam put a hand over her mouth but continued to howl, and Pretoria folded her arms, looking utterly outraged.

At last the most hotly anticipated Saturday of the year came around. The sun began to set at half past four, and in the wintry afternoon twilight the lake was opened for skating to the students of all three schools.

The hall was being decked out for the ball later, and so the younger years especially had been invited to have fun out on the thick ice, and would then be served dinner from a couple of delicious-smelling food carts that had come up from Hogsmeade. An array of wooden benches cluttered the shore of the lake closest to the castle. Various school staff as well as witches and wizards Chiân did not recognise were sat around chatting like it was a pop-up café.

The enchantments the teachers had laid upon the ice had both strengthened and smoothened it. There were little signs up by the shore proclaiming that every pair of shoes would sprout temporary blades as they entered the fenced-off circle which had been demarcated for skating. Chiân, Vessy and Lydia had been waiting all day for the ice rink to open. At four thirty exactly Mr Bruch took down the barriers and the girls, who had been loitering with several other students at the top of the bank, ran out onto the lake.

Chiân had only been ice skating once before in her childhood, but she, Vessy and Lydia had become rather adept at roller blading through the hallways of Hogwarts castle, and found that they adapted to the ice very quickly.

Chiân was a little quieter than most of the students out on the ice. She participated in the first and second years’ enormous game of tag, but was pre-occupied. She kept skating out to the edge of the fenced area, looking out across the ice, her back to the merry warmth and sound of the food trucks on the shore.

“Hey, Firebug!” she turned in a graceful circle to see Asher skating towards her, looking rather wobbly on his feet. Chiân laughed and pushed towards him, grabbing his arm as he stumbled.

“How are you so good at this?” he grumbled, steadying himself gratefully and glaring at her self-consciously.

“Natural talent,” she said, grinning.

“Bet you’re also thinking that this isn’t our first time out here,” he said after a moment, and they both gazed into the darkened skies over the east end of the lake.

Less than a year ago she and Asher had been two of seven students who had congregated far out on the surface of the lake to allow Chiân to finally uncover that fateful memory. A deep sadness was rising in Chiân, threatening to consume her. She could see Tian’s face in her head, smiling at her and dissolving into flecks of broken magic in the night.

“Come on,” said Asher. “Ozzy and Theo are over there and they haven’t see you for ages.” Without waiting for her to say anything he took her hand and started to skate badly back in the direction of the screaming and laughing students.

Chiân tried to shake the morose mood as they joined the Gryffindors, laughing at Ozzy’s disastrous attempts to skate. They were greeted by three Hufflepuff fifth years: Wallaby Peppers, Isaac Murrays, and Brett La Borge, who had been one of the victims of the basilisk attack. His presence in their games made Chiân feel a little anxious and sad, but it was hard to remain so when Ozzy kept falling and pulling Theo to the ground with him in very dramatic fashion, both yelling loudly and cackling with laughter each time.

Becky was not there. She was part of the school orchestra, who had been practising feverishly for months now so that they could provide the music for the ball. Most of the girls from the older years were absent, and after being friends with the ever image-conscious Vesper Willoughby, Chiân could understand why.

Ozzy and Theo, and the various other sixth years milling around with them, left at five to go get ready for the ball. Ozzy looked surprisingly nervous and gave Chiân a shifty grin as he and Theo waved their goodbyes, cutting a wobbly path back to the shore.

“He’s taking Hannah to the ball – you know Hannah Mayweather?” said Asher. Chiân made a delighted noise, and they spent an enjoyable few minutes trying to imagine what Ozzy would be like on a date.

Vessy and Calix came careening towards them, Vessy almost as graceful on the ice as she was in the air. Calix was clearly trying to look like he wasn’t having trouble, not wanting to be out-performed by a girl, but his face was bright red with the effort of not falling down.

“Hey! Hey, Asher,” Vessy said breathlessly, coming to a stop before them, Calix just behind her, panting. “Shall we get some food? Lydia said there’s a pancake truck!”

The blades on their feet disappeared as soon as they stepped from the ice to the gravelly shore. Chiân queued with them for food, listening to the chatter. She was warm from all the exertion, despite the frosty evening that was gathering darkness the way the food trucks gathered people.

First, second, and third years now made up most of the student crowd, as the older ones had left to prepare for the ball. Chiân quietly extricated herself from the group as they got their food. She stepped out of the glow of the food trucks and benches and walked back down to the ice. She pushed out onto it. The blades reappeared beneath her soles, and she revelled for a simple moment in her effortless, easy movement through the crisp winter air.

The ice was much emptier now. She spun around, her mouth full of the syrup-covered waffle she had got from the food stand. She skated backwards, watching the crowds on the shore shrink as she flew backwards into the darkness.

Chiân skated around in wide, lazy circles as she finished her waffle. Without really thinking too much about it she was reaching with that magical mental searchlight, stretching out below the ice. The ice was very thick so close to the winter solstice, but far beneath it she found the quick, flitting, tiny minds of the smaller fish that fed in the higher waters. She followed the grooves in the ice made by other students, her mind deep in the black waters below.

Most of the fish could see nothing at all in the darkness of the lake, but Chiân knew from her many hours of practice next to the common room window that many of the more magical creatures of the lake could see perfectly well in the shadowed depths.

Every time she saw any movement through her fish eye lens Chiân would press forth and find the new mind. She sensed a Grindylow, deep beneath her, but it was sleeping. She moved from it, using that strange lateral sense to push through the water.

She could feel the cold wind on her face atop the lake, and hoped that the handful of other people still out on the ice were successfully avoiding her slow, blind circles.

Chiân felt something larger than a fish moving through the water. It was not a size of mind she recognised, and realised with excitement that it may perhaps be the giant squid. She had never successfully stepped into the mind of the giant squid, though she had tried. She pressed into this consciousness and felt the most curious sense of size, of power, and an extraordinary presence of mind which stopped her distant body in its tracks.

It felt almost human, though the shape and scent of its thoughts was whittled into a curious, sleek, primal language that was laden with magic and deeply strange. She peered out into the rippling blackness, occasionally glimpsing slight shifts in texture which told her that she was moving through the deep water-gardens which waved up from the bedrock of the lake.

Chiân knew that they were travelling very, very fast. There was a sense of purpose in this creature, an urgency – a hunger. Chiân was distracted by a very distinct feeling of the pressing of time. She had never known a creature to have a concept of time like this. It was an uneasy awareness that she knew from her own experiences like desperately needing the toilet towards the end of a film you didn’t want to miss, or like an exam you hadn’t paced well, a self-inflicted pressure of serious consequence.

Chiân realised that she could see a distant, watery light. She felt a pain somewhere far off in her own brain and realised absently that she must have fallen over on the ice. Her consciousness was too completely embedded now in the rushing, speeding creature which moved towards the strange silvery shape rising rapidly ahead of her.

And the deep strangeness deepened. The silvery lights came from what were unmistakeably huts. Human figures, with thin, tendrilled faces were flitting in and out of them in what Chiân realised was panic. The enormous mind she was inhabiting was focusing in on a tall figure holding a spear. It was raising it above its head with a bony arm, a grey silhouette against the shimmering silver lights of the underwater village behind it. It was the strangest thing: even though the creature seemed to have a human face, its eye-sockets were papered over in the same translucent green skin as its body. Then they got close enough and she realised that it did have eyes, and that they were resolutely closed.

Chiân felt the creature’s mind fill with cool, calculating satisfaction. In the powerful body that was not hers, Chiân rose up in the water, still staring down at the figure, which threw its spear blindly up towards her – or it – whatever she was. Behind the figure were other human shapes, screaming in a strange language, pulling at each other and fleeing beyond the reach of the pale grey light.

Chiân plunged down with incredible quickness. The massive head turned, lightning quick, and closed a powerful jaw around the figure. Chiân could feel, more real than her own body on the ice, the rush of the cold water against her as she twisted, far below in the lake, and made her sleek, rippling way back through the water. Her teeth and mouth were full of the streaming hot wetness of the blood of the creature clamped in her jaw. She moved through the lake so fast, so urgently, that same sense of pressure almost reaching some critical point.

She was in discomfort, straining for something, but she had calculated for this. She had not over-extended herself. She had known exactly how far she could afford to go into the lake. And she knew she could make it back. She just needed to be accurate – to be precise – to not miss her mark.

Chiân swam in long, powerful movements with a body that seemed to stretch on forever. She knew exactly where she was going, anticipating with great pleasure the meal she was bringing back with her. She dove through the lake, speeding along, perceiving the upcoming wall of rock that arrived in the darkness before her. She plunged down, hooking herself beneath an outcropping and upwards into a trapped air pocket far down in the foundations of the castle.

The water rushed from her head, not too cold, not too warm, as she broke the surface of the water. Through her slit-like nose she breathed in deeply, relishing in the relief of the air. She coiled herself upwards and through the narrow, jagged tunnel above. She could feel the uneven rocks scraping against her but it did not hurt. She was made of harder steel than rocks.

She moved inwards through the rock, leisurely now that she could breathe, though the blood filling her mouth made her hunger almost painful. In the brittle darkness Chiân glimpsed curved walls coated in slime as the rocks around her smoothened and began to show signs of human enlargement.

Chiân could hear the slithering, the rushing of her body against the tunnel floor. The cool water of the lake was shaken from her scaled body as she moved upwards towards safety. She could hear her name, in a language that she barely remembered but thought maybe she had once known, people shouting her name – several of her names.

She moved through the familiar network of tunnels, over the bones of whichever creatures she had been able to hunt in that hot, dry land of the trees, so unpleasant, but so full of food. She moved out into her favourite, cool chamber, tiled in black and silver and glistening as it reflected the light of her own huge, yellow eyes. Someone was shaking her shoulders. She was not interested. She pushed her food, still hot despite the death it had bled to between her teeth, out of her mouth and gave a satisfied hiss as its blood pooled across the smooth marble floor.

“Chiân! Chiân, wake up! Chiân, you’re okay!”

The noises meant nothing to her. She coiled up her body and rose high above her prey.

“Chiân! You’re okay! It’s okay, Chiân!”

“Firebug, can you hear me?”

She gave another hiss of delicious anticipation and dove towards her meal, ready to feed.

Chiân could hear screaming, coming from ears she didn’t have, up in a body that was not the one eating the merman on the floor of what could only be the Chamber of Secrets.

Horror – unadulterated, white hot fear – made Chiân pull back as she moved with that monstrous mind to feast on the flesh of something that had a human face and eyes, now open, staring upwards into nothing.

The sight of it split her from the basilisk and she ricocheted back into her own oxygen-starved brain. The disorientation coupled with the violence of her screaming rendered her temporarily unable to reconnect with her own body. She did not have the fifty-foot, heavy, scaled body of a basilisk. She could not dart through the depths of the lake without feeling the cold, nor slither through the crevices of the caves without feeling the jagged teeth of the rocks against her. She was human, and she was tiny, vulnerable, impossibly overwhelmed by guilt and fear.

There was a pain in her legs where she had fallen. It was this, amidst the terror of feeling the shadows of such clear, deliberate murderous thought, which brought Chiân back to herself. She broke off the wheezing screams and gasped for air, focusing on the ache in her legs that was partially the discomfort of her position, partially the biting cold of the ice through her trousers.

Her hands rose to her mouth, feeling for the fangs that were not there, still taking huge, shrieking breaths that stung her lungs and made her cough. She clutched at her neck, feeling her face, trying to scrape away the memory of the hot blood that had streamed through her throat as she swam, making her so pleased, so hungry.

Chiân convulsed on the ice, turning abruptly away from the hands and worry that surrounded her and retching aggressively onto the ice. After the third retch Chiân threw up for real, vomiting the waffle she had eaten only minutes before out onto the ice. She held herself up on shaking arms, tears pricking behind her eyes to wash out the acid. She heard somebody vanish the vomit with a murmur.

She rolled back onto the ice and reached up to find her eyes, resting her cold, tiny hands over them. They were not basilisk eyes. They were human eyes. She was human. She was Chiân. Chiân Maeroris. Murderer. Firebug. Monster.

A few moments of deep breathing and she felt she had calmed enough to look around. Asher was right beside her, kneeling and staring intently into her face. There was a witch she did not recognise bending over her, and someone who she thought might be Mr Bruch, stood erect so that she could barely see his face from where she lay.

It was a frustrating few minutes, trying to shake off the adults, making up vague excuses about feeling the ice move beneath her and overreacting, falling over, freaking out, a bit over-excited.

The witch was one of the locals from Hogsmeade. She had come up that evening with a cart to serve delicious flavoured hot cocoa, and she insisted that Chiân and her friends have some. She walked Chiân back to the shore with her arm tight around her shoulders, chattering sympathetically and insistently about over-exertion and anxiety.

Asher was trailing along next to Chiân, and Vessy and Lydia followed closely behind. Beyond where Chiân had fallen were Calix, Egan, Tiff, Max, and Bessa from Ravenclaw, all watching her with varying degrees of concern and alarm.

Chiân was irritated by the fussy witch who would not let go of her, but forgave her as soon as she tasted the thick, warm, toffee-flavoured drink she pressed into Chiân’s freezing hands. She could see Lyra and the other first years peering at her from a nearby bench. The sound of music drifting out of the castle told Chiân that the ball was starting.

Tiffany, following them up the bank, tactfully engaged the witch by asking her what kind of flavours she had to offer. Chiân caught her eye and gave her a grateful smile as Vessy and Lydia leant in to her and Asher.

“What happened?” said Asher, sat across from her, eyes wide.

“I found Roxanne,” Chiân said, relieved that her voice did not come out in a terrified whisper.

Asher looked confused. “Who?”

“The basilisk,” said Vessy and Lydia at the same time.

In a quick, quiet voice Chiân told them what had happened, skimming over the nastier details of the basilisk’s hunt for a merperson to eat, having to get reasonably inventive with her language to avoid the weighty injunction.

“And I’m pretty sure that I, uh, ended up in the Chamber of Secrets,” she finished.

“Holy shit,” breathed Lydia. Asher’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” said Chiân, and she looked back out across the lake. She was thinking once more of that night when she had risen above it to uncover the truth about herself, about her brother, and about what she really was.

The terror of finding her mind immersed in the throes of such a powerful predator had not been in the act of killing, or in the witnessing of the blood that the basilisk had spilt across the chamber floor. It was in the outstretched arm of the merman as he threw his spear, and in the powerful, incontrovertible movement of the snake’s body. It was how familiar a scene it had been.

Chiân was not afraid of the snake. Its mind had been profound and complex in a way which much more resembled a human mind than most animals, and it had killed out of desperate hunger, out of need. It had plunged through the darkness of the lake with an urgency that Chiân knew from her own life.

She was afraid of herself. She had only been a child, only been reaching for her parents, desperate for the noise to stop, desperate to help. She had killed her brother by accident, crying out in pain and fear, the raw power of the magic she didn’t know how to control bursting from her, deadly and frightening.

The retreat of the basilisk into its familiar chambers, emerging from the water with its prey in its teeth, made Chiân think of her own cowardly relief as she had run away to Hogwarts last year, happy to walk away from the decaying mess of her family – a family she had blown apart with her unwitting actions, borne of primal instinct and power beyond her the capacity of her mind. She tried to tell herself that it was not the same thing – that the snake had retreated to its lair, whereas she had run to the castle.

But hadn’t she also taken with her the bleeding truth of her brother? Hadn’t she arrived at Hogwarts with her brother bursting through her subconscious so strongly that she had blown up many windows and a broomstick, terrifying half her year with her uncontrollable episodes of explosive panic before finally having to face the truth of what she really was.

She couldn’t hate the snake for hiding in the belly of this fortress where she herself had taken refuge. She couldn’t hate it for killing any more than she hated herself, because she understood it all too well.

She told herself that she was not the basilisk, that she was not a gigantic, death-wielding snake living and hunting in the Hogwarts grounds. That she was not the monster of Slytherin. Then Chiân thought of Matthew Tasker and Brett La Borge, the merman with his hand, outstretched, and all the people she had put in danger with her reckless actions out on that same lake.

The snake’s victims were her victims. She felt grief and guilt run like blood through her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-thirteen-below-the-ice-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	14. Of Monsters and Men

After the horrible events out on the ice on the night of the ball Chiân had gone back to the dormitories alone, insisting that the others not cut short their plans to sneak into the dancing and gate-crash the ball.

Vessy and Lydia had both left to go home for the holidays the day after the ball, giving her worried hugs and begging her to write if she needed to. Vessy and Asher had both offered to stay at the castle, which Chiân was touched by, but denied.

She was alone in her dorm room, or she was meandering through the dungeons, skating slowly in her roller boots, a disillusionment charm concealing her from everything but the most perceptive of ghosts. Instead of eating in the Great Hall with the other students and the triwizard guests Chiân had taken to sneaking to the kitchens for bread rolls and the warm, easy company of the house elves.

A deep, frightening loneliness had settled into Chiân’s bones. She felt as though her excursion into the mind of the basilisk had forged some kind of psychic link between them. She imagined that she could feel it moving far beneath her in the castle, perhaps leaving to hunt more creatures from the lake, maybe even breaking through the ice to go hunt in the forest.

She knew she had to tell the headmaster about the snake, living down in the Chamber of Secrets, accessing the lake and grounds through some crevice deep in the foundations of the school. And yet.

Chiân had been so sure that the Bruchs had taken care of it. She had shaken the dust from her feet as she had left Mrs Bruch’s office those many weeks earlier, wanting to believe that their silence was simply an oversight and that the snake was safely out of the way. She had reported it when it had been in the forest, and Mrs Bruch had told her they would take care of it.

But there it had been, darting through the lake, hungry and hunting. When term started again and everyone returned to the castle Chiân spent many lessons staring out of the window, searching the grounds with her mind, flying determinedly with the song birds, wondering if it was only the ice of the lake which was currently preventing the basilisk getting loose in the grounds.

In Potions lessons where there were no windows Chiân would sit, prowling through the bowels of the castle, searching for that same cavernous mind full of patience, deadly power and thirst. In the first lesson of term Chiân had not taken in a single word of Professor Schnittke’s lesson about hearing-enhancing solutions and received her lowest ever mark during the practical later that week.

She knew she was being distant from her friends, knew that Vessy and Lydia were worried about her, that Asher and Tiff were confused by how standoffish she was being, and how little she joined them anymore in the library. But she knew that they were safer without her – that everyone would be safer without her.

Chiân was getting to know the lower levels of the dungeons very well. They were dusty, unused, and often more crowded with ghosts than the Great Hall on a feast night. Still though she could not find any sight or sign of a secret entrance, of an unexplained, impenetrable space big enough that it might be the chamber.

Penny Pemberton, the school counsellor, called her in for a session a few weeks into term. She told Chiân that several of her teachers had expressed concern at how steeply her performance had declined since Christmas.

Chiân did not know what to say. She sat, hunched and pre-occupied, staring at Penny’s desk.

“Chiân,” she said gently, “nobody is angry at you – you don’t need to be frightened. We’re here to help.”

Chiân met her eyes. She knew that Penny was inside the injunction, and that she could talk to her if she wanted to. But all she could think in that moment was how the basilisk might respond if it had heard the same reassurance. Would it become more or less dangerous if it had a gentle, kind voice to follow in the darkness?

She felt a soft prickling in her head. “Um, Penny? Are you using legilimency on me?” she asked abruptly, looking up.

Penny raised her eyebrows. “I am, yes. It is not enormously effective without eye contact, but I am skilled enough to know that you are in considerable distress.” She had the grace not to lean forward and attempt to cajole a confidence from her, for which Chiân was thankful.

“Can I ask you a question about legilimency?” Chiân asked. Penny nodded. “With legilimency, you can like, almost feel what the other person is thinking, or experiencing, right? Like the same way you feel whether or not you’re hungry?”

“Yes. An apt comparison,” remarked the counsellor, her mouth twisting a little.

“Well, can you go a step further? When you’re looking into someone’s mind?”

“What do you mean?”

Chiân sat up a little straighter. She met Penny’s eyes, feeling in her own head that alien presence that she had so often been in the owls, birds and rodents of the Hogwarts grounds. “I mean can you like, exert your own will through the – um, the person, and make them do what you want them to do?”

Only because she was steadily meeting her eye did Chiân catch the glimmer of alarm that was quickly overridden in Penny’s expression. She gazed at Chiân for a moment longer, then said slowly, “no. At least, one cannot exercise power over another person’s mind using legilimency. It is possible to force another person to do your bidding, but that is a very different kind of magic, and a very seriously prohibited one.”

Chiân tried to look politely interested. She was focused more on the penetrating stare she was under. She did not break the look, instead trying to centre her mind, to draw on all she had learnt in the last six months about minds and how to move through them. She felt the intrusion, far thinner, far more discreet than Baba Buku’s rude invasion of her eyes. Chiân carefully pushed back against it, closing the fluidity of her thoughts to that prying presence that did not belong.

Penny was speaking, still watching Chiân carefully. “There are certain spells which are illegal to use upon another human being. The three most heavily prohibited are known as the ‘unforgiveable curses’.” Chiân could feel the probing in her head, searching through her thoughts as if trying to guide her focus onto the basilisk. Chiân pushed back, more defiantly now. “One of those spells, the Imperius Curse, allows the caster to use the victim almost as a puppet, overriding their will with their own. It is punishable with a lifetime’s imprisonment in Azkaban.”

“But only if you use it on a person? What if it was like, on an animal?” asked Chiân nonchalantly.

“I doubt that it would work on animals. Minds are very complex, Chiân, and the magic by which one enters a mind often needs to be of a kind with the creature one is attempting to control.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” said Chiân, nodding.

“It does?” said Penny, smiling slightly.

It did make sense to Chiân, who had found that the magic Baba Buku had taught her did not apply to humans. This had puzzled her initially, because Baba Buku herself had entered Chiân’s mind and even stolen control of her eyes, but Chiân had since decided that this was a special Veela trick which Bukuroshe had used to allow Chiân to come into her own mind, to understand her. She possibly should not have sounded so cavalier about this to Penny, though.

“Uh, yes. I did a lot of reading last year about… psychomancy and minds and stuff, and I know magical creatures have different kinds of magic” said Chiân quickly. She was succeeding in holding off the intrusion into her memories and was finding it easier and easier to maintain that occlusion whilst searching for suitable lies. “I mean, what about like, magical languages? Like, it’s not just something you can learn like you can learn French or German, is it?”

“Aha, you’ve been thinking about Parseltongue,” said Penny knowledgeably. Chiân had not been thinking of Parseltongue – she had been thinking of the Merpeople in the lake and the reading she had done about them since that night in December, but she agreed quickly with Penny.

“Yes, well you could probably learn a little Parseltongue by imitating the noises of those who speak it, but you’re quite right in thinking that at its heart it is about entering into the same magic as the species in question. So a true Parselmouth has not inherited a supernatural mother tongue so much as a portion of snake magic which, no, you could not learn.”

“But what if you could like, read the snake’s mind?” asked Chiân, thinking hard. “Like, if you could get the sense of how it thinks, and how it feels and what motivates it… that’s kind of the same thing as getting to grips with its magic, isn’t it? Like, the magic of a species is where its mind intersects with its body, right?”

“I suppose so, yes,” said Penny, frowning slightly as she watched Chiân process out loud.

“Well if magic is like partially about the layering up of memories, then couldn’t you spend loads of time inside the mind of a snake – a magical one – and you’d eventually pick up some of that magic...” Chiân fell silent, wondering if she had said too much.

It was a few more moments before Penny spoke. “Chiân… have you been worrying about the basilisk?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

Penny nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yes, I thought you might be. Nice work shutting me out, by the way – you’re really mastering the basics of occlumency, but I can still tell when you’re lying,” Penny grinned and Chiân gaped at her for a second, then laughed.

“Thank you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh, shut you out,” she said, sharing a smile with the counsellor.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t normally pry quite so far into a student’s mind without permission, but once I realised you were aware of me there I wanted to see what you’d do. I’m impressed.”

Chiân beamed.

“Well, Chiân, you’ve probably realised that the Bruchs have not been so successful at catching the creature.” Penny’s tone was serious again. Chiân nodded. “But Chiân you need to hear me when I say this: you are not going to do a better job than they are.” She was fixing Chiân with another hard look. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Remembering that Penny had just said she could tell when she was lying, Chiân slowly shook her head.

“Have you been thinking that you could find it and learn to control it?” Penny asked astutely. Chiân did not need to answer. She could feel the defiance in her own expression and Penny’s tone was much harder with her next words. “And what exactly would your intentions be once you had control of it?”

“Oh, I don’t want to attack anyone – nothing like that – not ever,” said Chiân, stumbling over the words as she realised what assumption Penny had jumped to. “I just thought… maybe I’d be able to make it leave, or… or help catch it or something.”

Penny’s expression lost some of its tension, but remained stern. “Chiân, that’s very well-meaning but you must not do that. You are bright, capable, and to be sure very, very magically gifted, but I cannot articulate to you how dangerous a basilisk is. The Bruchs are guarding every border of the school and grounds where any person is even slightly likely to tread, and they are confident that it cannot enter their perimeter.”

“What if they’re wrong?” asked Chiân quietly.

“They won’t be,” said Penny with simple, absolute certainty.

Chiân stared at her. It was a strange thing that she often encountered wherever the Bruchs were concerned. All of the staff seemed to have faith in them that went beyond the explicable.

She decided to throw caution to the winds. “What will happen to it when they catch it?” she asked.

“They will kill it,” she said.

Chiân was slightly disturbed by the wrench she experienced at these words. “And what will happen if they don’t catch it?”

“I’m not sure what you-“

“It will kill someone eventually,” said Chiân. Some of the weight of guilt at the strange solidarity she had been feeling for the creature bled into her voice. “That’s what it does. Unless someone… unless it’s caught or someone controls it then it’s going to keep hunting and it will kill someone. Maybe a student. We can’t afford to just-“

Penny was shaking her head. “Chiân, you have to trust me here. I know you’re a do-er. You like to take things into your own hands, especially when you feel some responsibility. That was fine – even admirable – when it was your own memory you were pursuing last year, but this is a whole different beast – literally. That was a part of you, and we were in the wrong to keep it from you. The basilisk is not you, Chiân. It is not your fault, it is not your responsibility, and I am telling you now that you need to give up any sense of ownership over the issue. You need to forgive yourself.”

Chiân could appreciate just how acutely Penny had honed in on the issue, but she was wrong. The basilisk was called the Monster of Slytherin, just like she had been called a monster by her mother for years. The only reason she had not become a full obscurial, dangerous to everyone around her, was because her friends had come alongside her and helped her to understand the truth of herself.

She was not kidding herself that she could find the basilisk and somehow talk it into seeing the error of its ways, but she also realised in that moment in Penny’s office that she was desperate that it not be killed. Chiân knew too well what it was like to kill without ever meaning evil, for the instinct to put the action beyond the reach of remorse. She felt with a powerful conviction she could not explain that she bore the name of ‘monster’ alongside the basilisk, tied to it in fate as well as in nature.

When she left Penny’s office she turned in the direction of the grounds, thinking she might head down to the quidditch pitch where she knew her friends were hanging out. They had all taken to bringing their homework outside, chatting and looking down at the three large plinths where the champions had begun to construct their entries for the second task.

Or two of them, anyway. Both Aceline and Xerxes had started building almost immediately. Aceline’s plinth was secured with a sort of protective cage she had erected like a tent over her work. Every day she came out and spent hours walking around, waving her wand and drawing complex networks and systems of spellwork and enchantment that somehow, eventually, might fit into the word she had been given: ‘biggest’.

Xerxes had built a circle of short, stubby stone pillars, which tilted outwards slightly, forming what looked almost like some kind of miniature, more evenly spaced Stonehenge. His prompt had been ‘most beautiful’, and Chiân, like all her friends, enjoyed wondering how on earth this unimpressive ring of stumps was going to transform into beauty.

“You alright, Firebug?” called a voice as Chiân crossed the entrance hall. It was Becky.

“Oh, hey Becky. Yeah, just had a thing,” she waved her hand vaguely and then noticed that she was holding her oboe case. “Oh, how did the ball go? You were playing in the orchestra, right?”

“Yeah, it was great!” her face split into a happy smile and she blushed slightly. “Theo and I got together.”

“Oh my god! Becky, congratulations!” Chiân felt a reprieve of real joy and she grabbed the sixth year, hugging her tightly.

“I know! Honestly I’m kind of in shock. Still haven’t really processed it. He said he’s had a crush on me forever, but I feel like I barely noticed him until this year,” she laughed self-depreciatingly. “Anyway, Asher said you had a panic attack or something that night. You alright?” she looked at Chiân with kindness and concern that was almost too much.

Chiân grimaced. “Oh, he mentioned that, did he?”

“Yeah, he said it was something about the basilisk, but we didn’t have time to talk about it properly because there were other people around.”

Chiân felt sad again, the joy at Becky and Theo’s coupling draining from her. “Yeah. I miss you guys. I feel like I never see you and Theo, or Ozzy. I mean I barely see Asher and I at least have classes with him,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so petulant and whiny.

“Yeah, it’s genuinely a shame that you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor,” said Becky sympathetically, unaware of how uncomfortable this made Chiân feel. “Honestly if you wanted to jump ship and just move up into our dorms we would love that. Everyone in Gryffindor knows you and knows that you’re not like a _Slytherin_ Slytherin – not in any of the ways that matter.” She smiled at Chiân like this was the highest of compliments. “Anyway, I’ve gotta dash – got practice. Nice to see you!”

Becky beamed at her and hurried off to a stairwell, leaving Chiân feeling confused and upset.

She stood for a moment more, then turned on her heel and headed towards the dungeons. Becky’s words were echoing around her head, making her angrier and angrier by the second. _Not in any of the ways that matter_.

She thought of Pretoria and Sam, fiercely defending muggleborns to the Durmstrang idiots. She thought of Vessy and the summer at the Willoughby’s house, listening to all her classmates trying to work out how to reconcile their own pride with the confusing guilt of generations of prejudice.

Chiân did not realise where she was heading until her feet led her right up to the door of Professor Schnittke’s potions classroom. She did not even know if he would be in there now that lessons had ended for the day, but somehow the familiar dungeon chamber, the scene of so many enjoyable lessons, felt like a comforting place to be right now.

She pushed open the door and started. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir – I’ll just-“ Chiân said, backing out into the corridor.

“No, Chiân, it’s alright. Come in,” called Schnittke. He was sat at his desk, and he was not alone. Leaning back on the first row of desks was Professor Chancery, the ethereal divination teacher who was also head of Gryffindor house.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” said Chiân, closing the door behind her.

“You haven’t, don’t worry,” he said with a smile, gesturing her to come forwards and join them. Chiân sat at the table next to Chancery and nervously met her intense but not unfriendly gaze. She was dressed in the same rich, embroidered red that Chiân had always seen her in. Chiân also realised with some surprise that she was barefoot, her legs stretched out to rest on a chair by the desk. She looked supremely casual and very, very beautiful.

“Hello Chiân,” said Professor Chancery in an unreadable tone. She had a slight accent that Chiân had not noticed before.

“Hello, Professor.”

“Gwendoline and I were just talking about you, actually,” said Schnittke, winking at Chiân. “Well, not you specifically, but your year group. Very soon you’ll be asked to choose what subjects you want to take next year.”

“I teach Divination, which is open to you as of third year,” said Gwendoline Chancery, smiling at Chiân.

“Yes, I know,” said Chiân politely. They had been given some of the guidance leaflets just last week by Professor Wexel.

“Are you thinking of taking it?” said Schnittke.

“Er…” Chiân knew that the deadline for these choices was coming up, but she had not given it a second of thought. Really she hadn’t given a second of thought to anything besides the basilisk recently.

“I can give you the answer to that one for free if you like,” said Professor Chancery with a distinct twinkle of mirth in her voice.

“Gwen, don’t,” laughed Schnittke, and Chiân had the impression of being on the outside of some private joke. Then he looked at Chiân, and his expression softened kindly. “Is something the matter, Chiân? You look troubled?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been to see Penny – uh, Mrs Pemberton,” she said, looking down at her hands, folded beneath the desk. She knew Professor Schnittke must have been one of the teachers reporting her poor performance in lessons and felt ashamed in that moment.

“Yeah, I have been worried about you,” he said, and his tone was so gentle that Chiân suddenly felt like she might cry. Both teachers were looking at her. “You’re a real talented kid, Chiân, but since the break I feel like you haven’t turned up to a single lesson. What’s going on?”

“I just…” Becky’s words were still clanging around her head so she couldn’t think what to say. “Sir, what house were you in?” asked Chiân abruptly.

“Ravenclaw, back in the day,” he said, smiling at her. Chiân’s disappointment must have been clear in her face because he chuckled. “There are many wonderful and accomplished people who have come from Slytherin house, Maeroris. Is that what you’re worrying about?”

Mumbling slightly Chiân responded, “everyone hates Slytherin. It’s… we’re the place all the bad people have been from.”

“That’s not true-“ started Schnittke, but Chancery cut him off.

“Yes it is, Ezra.” Her voice was sure and soft. Chiân looked up at her as Schnittke made a noise of protest. “It is, and no good comes of denying it. Chiân, what does the snake represent to you?”

For a wild second Chiân thought she was asking about the basilisk. “Um… what do you mean?”

“The animals that were chosen to represent each house by our founders were not arbitrary,” said the divination teacher, still leaning back on her outstretched arms, looking across at Chiân from atop the desk. “Salazar Slytherin, as I’m sure you know, had an affinity for snakes – which is more than a liking for them. He-“

“He knew snake magic,” said Chiân dully. She wasn’t sure if this was supposed to comfort her.

Professor Chancery gave a strange smile. “Yes, that’s exactly right. But do _you_ know snake magic?”

Chiân blinked at her. “What?” There was something unsettling about the way she spoke, like she knew far more than seemed possible.

“What is the nature of the snake? In your own estimation?” she asked. Chiân looked at her potions teacher but he had an expression that told her to give the question her best shot.

“Um, they’re predators… they kill… I guess they’re cold blooded?” Chiân was looking from one face to the other, increasingly confused. “I don’t know what answer you’re looking for here – not to be rude,” she added.

“What else do snakes do, Chiân?” asked Schnittke.

Chiân was thinking of that dreadful moment when she had hunted with the basilisk, unable to control it, unable to look away.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Chancery spoke again. “The lion of my house is a symbol of courage, but it is also eternally a challenge – reckless and hunted by people for centuries. It presents its power and invites battle. The lion is power and bravery but also a warning that those who are possessing of courage and do not exercise it with grace are doomed to a life of conflict and grave, mortal mistakes.”

“And the raven,” continued Schnittke, “sharp, intelligent, quick, possessing flight and reason, swiftness in the air, able to work in groups and to strive out on its own. But do you know what the collective noun for a raven is?”

“Um, isn’t it a murder?” said Chiân.

“That’s crows,” he said, smiling to show that he appreciated the slightness of the difference. “A group of ravens is an ‘unkindness’, or sometimes a ‘conspiracy’. The warning there for the raven is that if it prioritises nothing but its own abilities then it will tower in might until hubris brings it crashing down from the inside. Intelligence and mystique must be tempered by kindness or they lead to dangerous and fatal pride.” His mouth twisted ruefully as he spoke, and Chiân thought briefly of her father, who had given up his magic for his wife.

“What about Hufflepuff? The badger?” she asked after a moment, still unsure where all this was going.

“Our current school champion is a Hufflepuff,” said Chancery, smiling. “People are often surprised when Hufflepuffs are chosen for things like the tournament over Gryffindors, but they suffer that common shortsightedness to which so many of us are prone.”

“Except you,” Schnittke said, sounding both amused and grumpy as he surveyed his colleague. The teasing in his expression made Chiân wonder suddenly if there was something going on between the two.

Chancery laughed and it sparkled in the air as she dismissed his words. “Hufflepuffs work hard, and work together. They have a much more natural inclination towards unity than those of us in the other houses, the power of which cannot be matched. They are problem-solvers, and understand much more intuitively than most that the answers to their problems can be found most easily in the corporate efforts of their whole community.”

Chiân was frowning, thinking about this. She’d always thought that Hufflepuff was a bit woolly, but the reverence in Professor Chancery’s tone made it sound like they were the greatest of all four houses. “But what’s their weakness then?”

“They are underestimated,” she said simply.

Chiân looked at her blankly. “That doesn’t sound like a weakness.”

“No,” said Schnittke, agreeing. “To you and me it sounds like an advantage, doesn’t it? But if you talk to any average Hufflepuff you’ll find out quickly that it just doesn’t occur to them to manipulate that advantage as a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin – or even a Gryffindor – might.”

Chiân was still frowning, and Professor Chancery came to her aid. “They are kind, Chiân. They are generous, and willing to forgive. Humility is perhaps the most undervalued virtue any of us might possess, and it comes naturally to the badger. His greatest creations, the magnificence of his buildings, are beneath the ground, and he comes out at night where he cannot be seen. When the lion struts and the snake rises the badger remains in his den. He will be safest in the storm, but does not retreat during the battle. He is underestimated and makes no effort to correct that. He seeks first to use his power to serve, and that is a posture which most of us will spend our lives working towards.”

Chiân stared into her eyes, lost in the seriousness of their gaze for a long moment. Her words had rung with truth in a way Chiân wasn’t sure she understood.

Just as it became overwhelming Chiân looked away, searching around for the question she had been going to ask. “So… what’s the snake’s other side, then? The weakness?”

Schnittke laughed once. “Oh Chiân, that’s the problem, see?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone looks at the snake and sees, what, evil? Years of prejudice and dark magic, of power and ambition, if I’m being brutally honest,” he said, looking at Chiân apologetically.

“They see Voldemort,” said Chancery, and Chiân almost jumped. She had only heard one person say the name out loud before, and that had been when she had first heard of the legendary evil wizard. “It is why so many students who perhaps would benefit from being sorted that way plead each year to be in any of the other houses. It is why there are so few of you. The ambition and greed, the darkness of the snake _is_ the weakness, Chiân. It is the quality which must not be allowed to run rampant, as it has done for so many years, ultimately to the detriment and demise of us all.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic,” amended Schnittke. “To the demise of Slytherin house though, sure thing.”

“I don’t understand,” said Chiân, frustrated by the strangeness of this whole conversation.

Gwendoline Chancery spoke in that same, mysteriously powerful, ringing voice. “People think the snake an evil, and they miss the gift as they reject the monster. The true gift of the serpent is life. The mistake is in believing that this is one and the same thing as avoiding death. True life, true rejuvenation and regeneration is rather in the complete acceptance of death.” And she raised her hands. She was not holding a wand but drew in the air with her fingers an emerald green serpent made of coiling smoke.

“Do you know the Ouroboros?” she asked.

“Um… no?”

The snake writhed in the air between them, and Professor Chancery brought its mouth around so that it bit into its tail. The head melted into the body and it became a bright, hazy ring, perfectly unbroken.

“It is an ancient symbol, an old magic. It is life, and renewal, healing, and eternality of life. And yet it is also sacrifice, and…” she moved the smoke again and the circle tightened, swirling. “Self-sabotage,” she said, and there was great sadness in her voice.

There was a long silence. Chiân was staring at the undulating smoke of the ring. Something, some glimmer of understanding, was rising into view, but she couldn’t quite capture it, couldn’t quite make out what it was.

And then Professor Schnittke spoke. “The strength of the snake isn’t in its ambition of danger, Chiân. Snakes shed their skin. They remake themselves over and over again. That power for creation and re-creation is infinite.”

“The Ouroboros,” said Chancery, bowing her head in one definitive nod.

Chiân’s eyes widened. “But life is not the same as not-death, so if they try to avoid death they end up sabotaging themselves and… and dying?” Chiân raised a hand and reached for the smoke, looking to the woman, who nodded her permission. Chiân felt for the magic smoke in front of her, and drew the tail of the snake out of the head.

“So, trying to break the circle of death also means you break out of the circle of life?” the emerald smoke in Chiân’s hands quivered as if striving forward into nothingness. “Or do you mean that life can be like, undone… like a Guivernia plant?”

“Not exactly,” said Professor Chancery. “If I may?” She reached out a hand and the spell floated back to her. “The Guivernia plant does not grow and ungrow, as Royston said, though it is a common misconception. It simply grows towards a single moment from two directions.” The smoke became a pyramid, purple and iridescent, similar to the triwizard monument.

Chiân did not understand this at all, but before she could ask Chancery had waved her hand and the shape once more became a snake, twisting back into a rippling green. “Do you know the story of the Dark Lord?” she asked Chiân.

“Um, bits of it… sort of,” said Chiân.

“His sole ambition in life was to avoid death, and yet there has been no witch or wizard who has so monstrously desecrated themselves as they lived. His battle against death was, in the end, his undoing. Had he lived a true life, pursuing his extraordinary magical abilities and knowledge without compromising his soul he may have achieved true greatness of the kind which so few of us ever attain.”

The snake hovered above her hand, writhing and moving, sleek and powerful, deadly, and beautiful. “Instead he delved further and further into death, thinking that it was life,” she waved a hand and the snake coiled in on itself, biting its own tail once more. “Until his life was consumed.” The snake was eating itself, biting further and further in until it could constrict no more, and became a tight knot. “Less than alive. Dead. A meaner death than simply passing away.” And it collapsed, the smoke dissipating into nothingness in the air.

“So…” Chiân was thinking hard, all worries and sadness momentarily forgotten as she considered this. “Salazar Slytherin had snake magic, and he chose the snake to be the symbol for his house not because it was powerful and deadly and stuff, but because it could remake itself?”

“No, not _instead_ of those things, but as well as those things – that’s the trick here,” corrected Schnittke. “The Raven’s wit and brilliance must not be allowed to grow into cruelty, that pride still empowers the strides necessary for one to take full possession of one’s intelligence.”

Chiân got it. She sat up excitedly. “So to be a real Slytherin – like, in all the ways that matter – you’re not just ambitious and power-hungry, but you also re-invent yourself. You can like, shed your mistakes and become a better version of yourself. Is that right?”

She glanced from one face to the other, and felt their smiles feed the fire of pride that was swelling in her.

Chancery tucked her thick, long brown hair behind her ear and gave Chiân a wide smile. “I could not possibly comment on what it means to be a ‘real’ Slytherin, as I myself am from Gryffindor, but I do know this: if the lion could shed its pride and learn from its mistakes, it would be all the greater for it.”

This was slightly too cryptic for Chiân and she let it pass over her. She was thinking about the basilisk’s great yellow eyes, which killed at a single look. Two Hogwarts students had already been petrified just by meeting those eyes through the water of the lake. That didn’t seem to tally up with what Professor Chancery was saying about the greatest gift of the serpent being life.

Professor Chancery was speaking again, looking at Chiân with a shrewd expression. “There are many old muggle sayings to the effect of ‘the greatest success is in how you recover from your failings’, and it gets at much the same thing. The true measure of life is not its length but its quality. The serpent leaves a skin with every shedding. Think of the skins your classmates bear, not yet shedded, but heavy and old upon them.”

This seemed an incredibly odd thing to say, and Chiân frowned. But then she thought of Vessy, and Egan, sat in the lounge house last summer, talking about being cross-blood, trying to make sense of a legacy of prejudice and repentance handed to them by parents who had seen the fall of the dark arts and the aftermath of the great wizarding wars. She thought of Sam, half burnt alive by a father who was disgusted by her mother’s impurity of blood, and how fiercely Sam had retorted at even the slightest hint of that old pure-blood arrogance in the Durmstrang boy.

And herself. She spoke out loud, almost unaware of what she was saying. “I killed my brother, you know. When I was four. I did not mean to. My parents were arguing and I picked up a wand. I – he tried to take it from me, and I sort of… exploded. It nearly ruined my parents. My mother hated me for so many years. How do I shed that?” she looked up at them both, her face fierce. “How do I move past that? It’s not a skin – whether I meant to do it or not that’s what happened and I can’t undo it. I can’t avoid it – I’m a – I’m…” she swallowed, hard, looking away into the shadowed corner of the dungeon. She didn't know whether she was choking on the word ‘murderer’ or ‘monster’.

The silence was tremulous with Chiân’s grief and guilt, and she did not look around until Professor Schnittke spoke a few minutes later.

“True life comes with the full acceptance of death,” he said quietly. She looked at him, recognising that he was repeating Chancery’s words from earlier. He gave her the encouraging smile that she so prized getting at the end of a potions practical. “Gwen is infuriating sometimes, but she is also almost always right. And, important though I think this little chat has been, it is very much dinner time.”

He stood up from his desk and held out an arm to gesture that the ladies walk before him to leave the room. “Shall we?”

Chiân walked with them, dawdling a little behind, up through the corridors towards the Great Hall. As she did so she remembered the words spoken to her by the sorting hat, a year ago in the headmaster’s office as she had waited:

_“Slytherin house has suffered a great stripping back of its pride since the days of noble Salazar himself. There was even some talk of getting rid of the house entirely, after the Dark Lord fell. But the traditions have continued on, waiting for someone who could restore the name to glory. But you are not what they were expecting, no indeed.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-fourteen-of-monsters-and-men-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	15. 27 Hours

“Chiân... Oi, Firebug!”

Chiân snapped out of the fish’s mind and rushed back into the common room. Lydia was frowning at her.

“Have you done the charms questions for Wexel?” she asked.

Chiân laid her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. She had a constant headache these days. “Yes, I have.”

“Can I read yours?” Lydia asked.

“Which ones are you stuck on?”

“Er, the section about latin prefixes…”

Chiân began to list off the roots of various incantations and their meanings without opening her eyes.

“Okay, hang on, hang on, what was that last one?”

It was typical of Lydia to have left her homework to the very last minute. They only had a few days left of term and hadn’t even begun on the work for their easter break. Chiân, who wasn’t sleeping well, had been using her homework to fill the early hours of nights when the anxiety and weight of the basilisk seemed to be sitting on her chest, keeping her mind awake and frantic. Sometimes focusing on other things did not help, but sometimes it did.

The first day of the holidays was also the day when the triwizard champions would be presenting their creations to the rest of the students. Aceline’s work had been hidden from sight for a month now, with her ducking into a large marquee to work on whatever her ‘biggest’ project was. Xerxes had spent many long hours, watched by Chiân and her classmates whenever they could spare the time, pacing around in his stone circle, sometimes in silence, sometimes muttering to himself and waving his wand around. Lilike, to everyone’s severe interest, appeared to not have even visited her plinth once in the three months she had been given to prepare.

Chiân found the approach of the second task a relief, though not because of her interest in the tournament. It meant that once more all the rumours and conversations around the school were about the competition, rather than hysterical stories from couples sneaking into the forbidden forest to make out and being chased out again by enormous slithering creatures.

She had not said anything further to any of the staff about the basilisk, and had given up on her many circuitous walks around the dungeons. She had, however, found the basilisk again. It had happened twice now, and both times when she was out in minds of the fish. The most recent of these happened while she was sitting in potions class, her mind wandering further and further out into the water, heading for the mer-city again.

The basilisk had swept past her fish so suddenly that she yelped and Professor Schnittke had stopped the class to come check on her. He had sent her to the hospital wing after that one, and she had decided that she’d better stop doing this during lessons.

Vessy and Lydia had noticed that Chiân was even forgoing her trips to Rubeus House and Gardens in order to sit in front of the common room window and search. Chiân knew that they had come up with tactics to pull her back in whenever she went on these mental excursions. Vessy’s approach was usually to complain loudly about one of the boys, or an irritating partner in a Herbology practical, asking Chiân to braid her hair as she vented. Lydia’s tactic was to loudly and desperately ask her for help with her homework, of which she usually had plenty.

Their final lesson of term was Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Faustus. Chiân had always been slightly wary of the grizzled old man, but he was a good teacher, rigorous and fair. He collected their essays on legislation against experimental hexes with a silent wave of his wand, then surveyed the class. The Slytherins had DADA with the Ravenclaws, and Chiân was sat at the back with Lydia, Vessy, Bessa McDaniels and May Torriben.

“You’ve done well this term,” said Faustus, stood behind his desk, arms clasped behind his back. “We’ve made good progress over dark creatures and hexwork. Not to mention some of you are already getting to grips with the theory behind most of your basic counterjinxes,” he nodded to a few of them, then rocked back on his heels a little.

“Now, I’m sure you are all greatly preoccupied by all this business,” he waved a hand out towards the window. Chiân knew he meant the imminent second task, though what Chiân could actually see was the lake, thawed and glistening in the afternoon light. “And I thought we might use this final hour together to answer any questions you might have.”

He began to pace in his usual curt, even steps, turning sharply at either side of the classroom. “Defence work requires quick thinking, and an active, imaginative engagement with whatever you opponent you are facing – whether it is human, beast, or enchantment. Curiosity has its place in this subject. The Dark Arts are advanced by those wizards who dare to push the boundaries of morality, of magic, and of course the law. Combating them requires an equally ambitious mind which exercises creativity with moral integrity. So come on, don’t be shy. What would you like to know?”

He turned abruptly and stared at them all. For a moment nobody moved. Then, two seats from the front, Ben Orsman from Ravenclaw stuck his hand in the air.

“Orsman, yes,” said Faustus, pointing to him and resuming his pacing.

“Sir, is it true that if you break the law you get fed to a dementor?” Ben said enthusiastically.

“What? No,” growled their teacher, frowning at him. “The highest security wizarding prison is called Azkaban, and it is guarded by dementors – and very effectively – but dementors do not ‘eat’ humans – yes, Miss Puthe?”

Melanie Puthe had stuck her hand up. “Sorry sir, but what is a… a dementer?”

Several people tittered, but stopped quickly as Faustus looked at them. “Funny, is it, Mister Dufay?”

“No, sir, sorry sir.” Chiân saw Calix sit up, the grin wiped from his face. She heard Vessy give a contemptuous tut.

“Why don’t you tell Miss Puthe about dementors then, if you’re so wised up. Go on.”

Calix glanced at Mel, who was still blushing. He swallowed. “So, they’re like… evil creatures in these big cloaks – not creatures, uh, spirits, that uh-“

“Wrong,” intoned Mr Faustus, cutting him off. “Can anybody in this classroom give me a succinct description of a dementor?”

Chiân knew a reasonable amount about dementors from her reading up on psychomancy. After a few tense moments of silence she stuck her hand in the air, making Lydia jump.

“Yes, Miss Maeroris, tell us.”

“Dementors are a corporeal magic force which thrives off fear and despair. They aren’t dead spirits in the same way ghosts are, but they also aren’t really alive. They’re more like a curse that’s come to life. They breed in climates of misery and animosity, and feed on human souls. They suck it out of the air generally, taking what they can get, but if they have the chance they suck it right out of your mouth and leave you soulless. It’s called the dementor’s kiss and it’s the wizarding equivalent of the death sentence.”

Every person in the classroom had turned to stare at her. She ignored them all and looked calmly at her teacher.

“Yes. Very good,” he said gruffly, and turned away, but Chiân had stuck her hand back up in the air.

“Sir,” she called loudly.

“Yes? You have a question?”

“I do, Sir.” She sat up in her chair, looking at him intently. She’d not thought to ask him before, instead stewing around in the idea for the past few months, grumpily avoiding Penny Pemberton’s attempts to reinstate their regular counselling meetings. “Is the soul a specifically human thing? Or do creatures have souls as well? Because I was doing some reading the other day about, uh, animagi, and I’m assuming that a human who has transformed still has their soul when they’re an animal, but the dementors don’t feed on animals, do they? Or would they be able to feed on transformed animagi? In which case the animagus transformation isn’t a true change, is it, because they still have a human soul.”

The reading Chiân had been doing was only very, very loosely about animagi. In fact she had been trying to research variants on the imperius curse that would work on animals, which had meant several disillusioned trips into the restricted section to procure some quite auspicious books on dark magic to do with wills and mastery of souls. However she wasn’t about to ask Professor Faustus in front of the entire class how to translate one of the unforgiveable curses into a specifically serpentine magic so that she could control a basilisk that most of the school had only guessed was running loose in the grounds.

He was giving her a long, perturbed look that Chiân had often received from teachers. “There have been cases… well, one case that I know of, of a person imprisoned in Azkaban who, it later transpired, was an unregistered animagus. I believe that he was able to escape the prison owing to the fact that the dementors, who do not see in the same way we do, did not recognise his soul as belonging to one of their captives while he was in his animal form, suggesting that his soul did indeed transform. What do you think, Miss Maeroris?”

Chiân was slightly startled at having the question sent back to her, but thought hard for a moment. She did in fact have some guesses about this, though she thought she should be careful not to say too much.

“Well… I think, sir, that it’s misleading to call it a ‘soul’, right? Because whether or not animals do have souls, magical creatures have a specific kind of magic. So even if the animagus person transforms into an ordinary animal, like a cat or something, they’re still transforming into a magical version of that cat. So maybe the process where you become an animagus is actually a process which changes the shape of your magic and like, augments it so that it now includes the kind of magic of the animal you turn into. Like, I don’t know about souls, but maybe animagi in animal form are using a different brand of magic and that means that their soul isn’t the same… shape, or something.” Chiân frowned, not sure whether she had articulated that very well.

May was leaning forwards around Bessa and ogling at her with her mouth wide open. Lydia had zoned out, leaning on her hand and staring at the floor.

Chiân was looking at Professor Faustus, who had stopped his pacing to listen to her. He was not quite smiling, but he also wasn’t glowering for once.

“An astute theory,” he remarked, which was positively effusive praise for him. “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Maeroris, could you stay behind after class has ended, just for a few minutes? Thank you. Now, Master Belford, I believe I saw your hand go up earlier. You have a question?”

After half an hour of discussions Professor Faustus let the class go a few minutes early, and Chiân encouraged the girls to head back to the common room without her. They were all planning to go watch the last night of preparations the champions would be doing for the second task, tomorrow evening. Vessy offered to take her bag so that Chiân could head straight out to the quidditch pitch afterwards and meet them there. Chiân smiled at her gratefully as she left and then approached the front of the classroom.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” she asked. He was putting stacks of essays into a leather satchel at his desk.

“Ah yes, Maeroris. Sit.” He pointed at a seat in the front row, and Chiân sat, waiting. It was a moment before he turned his attention to her. “You submitted an essay to me before Christmas on hex defence. I seem to remember that you went on something of a tangent about non-verbal wandwork and post-incantational duelling, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Chiân nodded, holding her face carefully neutral.

“Do you take a particular interest in the Dark Arts, Miss Maeroris?” It was pretty much the question Chiân had been expecting him to ask, and she was impressed that he did not bother couching it in transparent needling the way most of her other teachers might have.

Chiân did not want to give him an outright ‘no’, because she wasn’t entirely sure that it was true, and Professor Faustus struck her as exactly the kind of wizard who would see through any half-hearted answers. “I… find them fascinating, but only because, well, like you said, it pushes the boundaries of magic, doesn’t it? But I don’t want to practice them, no.”

This was true, though Chiân thought guiltily of the times she had considered trying to practice the imperius curse on one of her friends. She had even discussed it with Asher, who had been hilariously up for her testing it on him.

“No, well, I salute you in that conviction,” he said, reaching for a strip of parchment and a quill from a draw in his desk. “You are a keen student, Maeroris, and I always try to encourage my students to pursue the things that interest them. I think you can handle a bit of extra homework over the break,” he said, scribbling something on the parchment and handing it to her. “I would like you, on top of the work I have given the class, to write me a short essay on the patronus charm, which is used to dispel dementors, and the significance of the fully-fledged animal form of a true patronus, with particular deference to the relationship between animal magics and the human soul.”

“Yes, sir,” said Chiân, delighted as she took the parchment upon which he had written this title. “Um, could you possibly give me a permission slip to use the restricted section over the break?” she asked quickly.

He nodded and with a wave of his wand another piece of parchment floated into her hand. She thanked him and he dismissed her. Chiân tucked both pieces of parchment into her robes as she left the classroom. Her head was already swimming with thoughts about patronus forms and animal magic as she hurried down the steps into the entrance hall. Chiân ducked past some Hufflepuffs as she made her way into the grounds.

She walked down the path, intending to take the left around to the quidditch pitch, but was distracted by a hair-raising shriek. Several of the Hufflepuffs were pointing towards the Forbidden Forest, alarm and horror wiping comically across their faces one by one as they all spotted it. Chiân glanced back at them, turned, and froze.

Spiders were pouring out of the forest. They were the size of dogs, all the way through from lapdogs to great danes, and a few even bigger, stepping over the scuttling forms of their smaller counterparts, all fleeing the forest. They were going in every direction, some out towards the greenhouses, some up towards the students standing in front of the castle, though these ones seemed to veer away when they noticed the screaming teenagers.

Chiân was rooted to the spot, staring through the storm of spiders into the dark trees beyond. Surely this meant that the basilisk was in there, thought Chiân, her mind churning. But why had it left the lake?

Then she smacked herself on the forehead, cursing. She had seen it from the classroom window not half an hour ago. Over the last month the lake had been slowly thawing, and now the ice lingered only in the occasional, dwindling lump out towards the far end of the water. Of course the basilisk wanted to hunt further afield. Of course it had opted not to make the mad dash through the water, holding its breath for the sake of a meal. Why would it risk its own life when it could leave the water entirely and hunt at its leisure in the forest?

But this meant that the basilisk was not currently in its chamber, and that meant that it was out of the school. Chiân turned in the opposite direction and ran, around the castle towards the lake, rapping herself on the head as she went so that her body shimmered out of sight. Her wand was in her robes, so she had no trouble casting the spell as she ran down the slope to the lake.

She reached the edge of the water and paused. She looked around behind her for any sign of the Bruchs, patrolling a perimeter perhaps. She couldn’t see the forest from here, separated from it by the castle. Everyone else would be out watching the champions put the finishing touches on their creations. It was the perfect opportunity.

Chiân had vaguely had the thought for a while now that maybe, if she could get down into the lake whilst the basilisk was out hunting then she could blast shut the cave entrance and stop it getting back into the castle. She had not acted on this though because the chances of her finding the snake in the water and getting out there fast enough were very slim, and she didn’t want to risk shutting it inside the castle, even though it did not seem to know how to get up into the populated corridors above it.

Now though, she was absolutely certain that it had vacated its chamber, and this was her chance.

Chiân had thought about how best to swim so far down into the lake, and had even run a few trials with the appropriate charms whilst in the girls’ showers.

Now she cast a sealant charm over her body, tightening it until it stuck to her skin and clothes. She stepped into the water and was pleased to find that she did not feel its cold or its wetness. Chiân was also hoping it would be sturdy enough to hold off the pressure as she reached the necessary depths.

She cast a similar spell over her head, but instead of binding it tightly to her face she made something of a bubble, giving her a clear handspan of air which would allow her to see in the water and, more importantly, to breathe.

Without wasting a single second of the maybe ten or so minutes of oxygen she had trapped with her, Chiân plunged into the water.

It was like trying to swim whilst wearing a blanket, and the bubble around her head had more buoyancy than she could battle even with her greatest efforts. Still thrashing around at the surface Chiân swam out into the water until she was roughly above where she thought the cave entrance might be. She pulled out her wand, and conjured from it a jet of hot air that began to propel her powerfully downwards. It was a little alarming, speeding down into the water so close to the jutting cliffs of the school’s foundations, and Chiân clumsily tried to steer herself out into open water a little further. Her visibility was very limited and she did not want to crash face first into solid rock.

She could see a strange light in the rock rushing up towards her as she plunged deeper, and wondered for a confused moment if this was the entrance she was looking for, though it was too bright and much too wide. Then with a start she realised that it was the long window of the Slytherin common room. Inside her shimmering bubble of a diver’s helmet Chiân let out a laugh, the sound weirdly muted and close. She slowed to look, staying far enough away that nobody was at any risk of spotting the strange silvery mess of shapes that outlined her disillusioned body.

She could see Zerry Gilgamesh playing the grand piano at the far side of the chamber, and a scattering of the fifth years sat around listening to them. They seemed to be making the most of the mostly empty common room to spread out into the armchairs that were usually filled by the older students.

Grinning at the strangeness of her vantage point Chiân moved on, once more facing downwards and holding her wand so that she was pushed deeper and deeper into the water.

Her heart was pounding now, sure that she was fast approaching the level. The blackness was absolute here, the silence oppressive and eerie. She did not have the vision of the basilisk and so she raised her wand, feeling herself already beginning to rise as she let up on the propulsion. She gripped her wand tightly and cast from the end of it a ball of light. With great effort against the massive density of the water around her, Chiân grabbed the ball of light with her other hand, and once more expelled hot air from her wand, keeping herself level in the water.

It took a few minutes of searching, with Chiân’s nerves mounting ever higher as she careened around the face of the rock, deep in the heart of the lake. More and more frequently she was checking behind her as if she was about to see an enormous, deathly-eyed snake darting towards her through the blackness.

The light in her hand illuminated the rock well enough, and with a jolt Chiân suddenly recognised an outcropping from her experiences of hunting with the snake. She moved down towards it, careful not to use too much force and slam into anything. This was the place, she was sure of it. Chiân let go of the ball of light, reached out a hand and gripped the lip of the rock, pulling herself down beneath it. Sure enough there was a space beneath it, running up and into the submerged cliff-face.

Before pushing herself in Chiân turned to have one last look behind her. For a moment she floated there, gripping the rock with one hand, her wand keeping her steady in the other. She looked out into the darkness and felt her breath catch in her throat – not because her charm had failed, but because the sight before her was shockingly, frighteningly beautiful.

The ball of light she had let go of was floating absently away from her, out into the water of the lake. Though it was pretty strong light, its beams fell upon absolutely nothing as it went. The absolute blackness of the water stretched on in every direction. Nothingness. Absolute.

Shivering slightly Chiân turned away and hoisted herself beneath the rock. She let herself rise upwards now, bumping against the rock as she floated until she broke through into the air pocket deep inside the cliff. She did not release her breathing bubble, though, instead bobbing there like a bizarre buoy in the darkness.

She had kind of intended to collapse the tunnel with a blasting spell and then swim back out, but she was realising now that this might be her one chance to find the Chamber of Secrets itself. She could seal the tunnel from the inside, find the chamber with the tiled floors, then work out how to get back up to the castle from there.

As soon as this tempting, intrepid thought occurred to Chiân she knew she had to do it. Resolve bolstering her she kicked against the rock, moving out of the water, and she began to climb. It was hard work and she had soon released her bubble head charm, lighting another ball of light to float along before her. She had cut herself plenty on the stone, and was breathing the foul, stale air heavily as she made her way up the passage.

She was trying not to look back too much – partially because the steep twists and turns of the tunnel were dizzying to consider from a height, but also because if the basilisk did indeed try to return to its bolt hole any time soon she would be able to do very little to prevent it killing her.

After maybe an hour, maybe two, Chiân’s climb became easier, flattening out into more of an uneven hike, ducking under lips of rock and watching her feet to avoid pools of water and deep crevices. The passage was stretching wider and wider on either side of her, still low and rough, but less of a tunnel already. And then, all at once, she emerged.

The ball of light, which had been floating along a few feet before her bobbed upwards to a curved ceiling of dark, filthy stone. The stench was unbelievable, the cold air stinging Chiân’s nose as she tried not to gag with every breath. She undid her disillusionment spell and released the sealant charm which had been wrapped around her body, making her sweat profusely. The cool air was at least a relief.

Chiân was in a passageway, wide enough for a lorry to pass through, and slimy with damp. The rounded floor told her that this was not designed for human travel, and the scattering of tiny rodent bones and skulls spoke of the detritus of many years and possibly many basilisk meals.

She turned, facing the crevice along the wall of the passage where she had emerged. She raised her wand and aimed it down between the rocks. She took a deep breath, which she regretted immediately, and then from her wand exploded a thick kind of liquid fire. She staggered backwards from the heat as it blasted outwards into the rock, hissing and steaming as it forced its way through the water-strewn rock. Chiân was grinding her teeth with the effort of conjuring the molten lava, but after a few minutes of concentration and magic she was satisfied. The substance was cooling and solidifying in front of her, sealing the way she had come with a newly formed, solid expanse of rock.

There was no going back now.

Chiân set off down the tunnel, picking a direction almost arbitrarily. She could not remember which way the snake had gone to get to the place with the tiled floor, but she knew it wasn’t too far. She was hungry and worn out from the climb, not to mention strongly tempted to hitch up her already filthy robes and take a leak somewhere in a darkened corner. She decided that it was very unlikely she could worsen the rot and smell of the tunnel, and picked a reasonably clean stretch of curved floor in which to squat down and relieve herself. She didn’t even bother vanishing the evidence, and moved on without a hint of embarrassment.

The adrenaline and thrill of her adventure carried her for another hour before she began to feel seriously discouraged. She had been twisting and turning through many passages of varying sizes, using the density of skeletal remains to judge how close she was to the snake’s main lair. She had not found any chamber of any kind, though, and was increasingly sure she was going in circles.

Chiân stopped to get her bearings, and pulled out her wand again. The ball of light that she had cast floated above her throwing shadows against the walls of the tunnels. She lit her wand tip, then manipulated the illumination spell so that it left a glowing line wherever she waved it, hanging in the air like a strip of warm LEDs. She drew a cross to mark her position, waved a hand to extinguish the ball above her, and walked now with her wand in her hand, leaving a trail of light behind her, marking her way.

After at least another hour of clambering through the slippery mouths of many tunnels, sometimes wading through ankle-deep sludge, sometimes thick carpets of tiny rodent corpses, Chiân’s heart leapt as she spotted a glimmer of light ahead of her. She had scampered forwards excitedly before she realised with a groan that it was in fact her own lingering trail of golden light. She emerged into the wider tunnel that she was coming to guess was the main one and looked up and down in exasperation.

Far along to her right she could see a dense spot of light that she guessed was her initial cross.

Chiân slumped back against the wall of the tunnel and groaned, raising her eyes to the ceiling in desperation and fatigue. It must be evening by now. Maybe she had already missed dinner. That wasn’t such a bad thing, as she could always pop into the kitchens to ask the house elves for food, but she was starting to feel a bit worried about just how little progress she had made.

She stood there for a few minutes, leaning against the wall and staring up at the shadows, thinking about her options. Short of trying to bewitch a rat skull to fly up through who knew how many layers of stone to tell her friends that she was stuck beneath the school in some unused sewage tunnels, she recognised that her choices were limited.

Then she realised what she was looking at. Chiân stepped forward, interest flickering through her tired body. The tunnel was curved, cutting in circular tubes through the stone foundations of the school, but just beyond the gentle glow of her wand and the trail she had previously drawn through this section of tunnel, was a section of the rounded ceiling where the shadows were deeper.

Chiân moved beneath it and raised her wand, peering upwards. “Holy shit,” she breathed, fresh excitement leaping into flame within her.

Above her was the entrance to a tunnel just like the ones she had been climbing through for hours now. Of course when she had been using the ball of light, hovering above her, obscuring everything behind her, any openings which led upwards would have passed her by, invisible.

But how to get up there?

Chiân spent a few fruitless minutes trying to propel herself upwards in the same way she had used her wand to steer her through the lake, but she just couldn’t quite sustain the force needed to get herself off the solid ground. Wingardium Leviosa didn’t work either, and she vaguely remembered Professor Wexel telling them something about how what he called ‘household charms’ did not tend to work on their own caster.

She vaguely remembered a long time ago reading about the matrix of flying enchantments necessary to create a broomstick, and thought maybe she could find a big enough bone somewhere in the tunnels to bewitch. Chiân walked back towards her starting cross, much slower now that she was having to watch her feet and glance up at the ceiling every few steps.

Sure enough the main tunnel was punctuated by tunnels which opened downwards into her current passageway. Chiân stopped beneath the biggest one she had yet seen and fired a blast of light like a flare up into the black hole. A few feet into the tunnel above her the light flew past the rusty but unmistakeable bars of a ladder, fixed into the wall as it stretch up beyond her.

Elated, Chiân waved her wand, focusing hard on drawing through the air a rope ladder of her own. It was a bit wobbly but it would do. She raised it to the bottom of the iron one above her, fixing it on as best she could in the curdling darkness.

Putting her wand between her teeth, tip lit once more, Chiân reached up her own rope extension and gave it a tentative tug. It seemed to hold, so she stepped onto the lowest rung, swinging wildly for the first few until she had climbed up into the mouth of the vertical tunnel and grasped the bottom rung of the metal ladder.

When she was fully in the tunnel she wrapped an elbow around a rung and looked down, moving her other hand towards the lights she had left below, extinguishing them. For a second the darkness was oppressively whole. Chiân whispered into the damp cold air and a fresh ball of light bloomed from her wand, rising above her head to guide her.

Chiân climbed for a long time, though slowly. Her arms and legs were aching and she was stopping more and more frequently to cling onto the rungs and pant for breath. Once or twice she had passed other entrances to tunnels, even traversing down them, only to find that upwards was still the only option that didn’t lead her in circles. She had also stopped to work out how to conjure water with her wand. This had taken longer to figure out than Chiân felt like it should have, and when she finally produced water that didn’t taste funny she had been so over-zealous that she had soaked herself with it and now her hair was sodden and dripping into her robes, making her shiver.

She lost all sense of timing in the slime-ridden darkness, and she barely had the energy to feel relieved when she reached for the next rung of a ladder and found that it wasn’t there. Instead her hand fell forwards onto the floor of a new passage. There was no more ladder, and no more tunnel to climb. Chiân was not so optimistic as to think she was about to emerge in the school dungeons, so she was not wholly disheartened when she looked up to see yet another tunnel.

The floor here though was not rounded. It was flat and tiled, and the tunnel much wider. Her heart thumping exhaustedly Chiân got to her feet and walked forwards, trailing light once more with her wand. It was much easier going, navigating the scattered bones and rotting flesh of various rats and creatures on the even floor, though the smell was, if possible, worse. She thought that she could hear running water, and made an attempt to look for it.

She found it by almost falling into a grate set into the floor. Beneath it ran what was definitely sewage, and she realised that she must be travelling parallel to the main pipes of the school systems. A long time ago in another life she thought of dinner at Asher’s house, giggling about the idea of Hogwarts students using vanishing spells instead of toilets. Chiân wondered if these tunnels had been built especially when the castle adopted muggle plumbing, or co-opted for this purpose.

She wished she had a way of telling the time. She had passed the point of painful hunger and now felt weak from lack of food or rest. She vaguely thought it must be night time, but even sunlight seemed a distant memory. She took heart though that so far on this new level she had not yet crossed her own light-marked path.

Then Chiân spotted something that reared up in her memory from the floor ahead of her. It was a dark, pooled stain of blood, dried across almost human bones. She ran to it and knew beyond doubt that this was the mer-man she had been party to killing as she rode with the basilisk last December.

She knelt in the congealed, months-old blood and found the broken skull of the creature. The horrible memory of feeling it break between her – or rather, the serpent’s – teeth came back to her forcibly and she shuddered. Getting back to her feet rather unsteadily Chiân looked down at the scant remains of a creature who had faced the basilisk bravely, defending his kin from the monster. Chiân raised her wand and drew fire down to consume what was left of the bones.

She sat a little way away from the makeshift funeral pyre and watched it burn. The warmth was a huge relief to her shaking, sodden-robed body. Chiân was too tired to even berate herself for the monumental stupidity it took to get into this situation. All she really wanted to do was curl up on this relatively clean stretch of stone-tiled floor and close her eyes, to stop thinking, and to let herself be warmed by the flames a few feet away from her.

Chiân did not remember falling asleep, and awoke in the pitch blackness with a start. The echoing, indistinct sound of water rattled around her and panic gripped her for a moment. How long had she slept for? She grabbed her wand from beneath her arm and got to her feet, stumbling in the darkness and swearing loudly.

“Light, Chiân, come on,” she muttered, and blasted a ball of light with accidental force into the ceiling of the passage. There was a dark spot on the ground a little way from her where her fire had burnt itself out. Charred black bones remained heaped in a cluster. They were stone cold.

“That’s not good,” said Chiân once she had touched them. She must have been asleep for several hours. Her mouth tasted absolutely foul. She relieved herself again along the edge of the tunnel, vanishing it this time with her wand. She wasn’t sure why. Something about holding the mer-man’s skull before she had laid down to sleep before his funeral pyre made her want to treat the place with a little respect.

She was completely disorientated and so hungry she felt sick, but Chiân squared her shoulders, lit her wand-tip once more, and set off further into the tunnel. She took a right, then took a left, then a left. She was walking very quickly through the tunnel system, as if feeling purposeful could offset the panic she was feeling.

The sound of rushing sewage all around her, Chiân took a right, and then stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes were wide, her heart thumping. She was face to face with the basilisk.

No – not a basilisk – because its eyes were not yellow but black, and it was as frozen, as rooted to the spot as she was, staring at her.

Hardly daring to breath Chiân moved her arm very, very slowly. An enormous, fanged serpent head as large as she was loomed eight feet in front of her, its massive body curving downwards from where it seemed to fill the entire tunnel.

Chiân’s pulse was rapid, blank shock wiping exhaustion momentarily from her body. Slowly she looked away from the shining, pupil-less obsidian eyes of the behemothic snake. A shiver ran through her as she looked past its gaping mouth at its body.

It was stone. It was a stone carving. Astonishingly life-like and pristine in a way nothing in these god-forsaken tunnels had been so far. It seemed to move with every flicker of the shadows, and Chiân forced herself to reach out a shaking hand, to push through the illusion that the unseeing eyes of the giant snake were following her every move in the freezing darkness.

She stepped forwards and touched the lower jaw of the statue. “Holy fuck,” she breathed. It was indeed stone. Relief made her shake even harder and she gave a slightly hysterical laugh.

Surely this was a marker that she was close to – if not right outside – the Chamber of Secrets? She could feel beneath her fingers that the black stone of this figure was rinsed through with magic.

Curious, she pushed her own magic out towards the statue, one hand still resting in the massive mouth. A shock of terror momentarily flattened her as she felt in response something that was almost as sentient, as lithe and alert as a mind. Then her fear morphed into wonder as she pressed through what was obviously an astonishing and intricate dormant enchantment.

It almost was a mind – or an imprint of a mind, and she listened to it in the same way, leaning forwards until her head was almost in the snake’s mouth, listening hard, distracted. She thought she recognised the snake-like tenor of the magic, asking something of her, and she wondered if she might be able to emulate it – to hear the question writ into this eternally poised enchantment and to answer it in kind.

Chiân stepped back, eyes narrowed, thinking.

After a few more minutes she shut her eyes, still drawing towards the magic laid into the great stone snake in front of her. She tried to reach into it in the same way she would a mind, and again the sense of a question, of a closed door, of a demand rose up in the magic.

It seemed to be asking her if she, too, could speak the magic of the snake. Chiân let herself be wrapped up in the particular glory of the magic, of the glistening, powerful quality, the sibilance and assurance of the spellwork, and from within her mind, somewhere beyond where words became language, she spoke.

Her mouth moved in a way she did not understand, hissing and breathing, but in that place where her mind reached beyond her body, communicating with the enchantment, she asked a question of her own.

“ _Show me the way to the Chamber of Secrets.._.”

And she felt the enchantment rise in response and understanding, calling her forwards, shifting, uncoiling, and… opening.

Chiân opened her eyes and saw the great forked tongue of the serpent moving silently in the wandlight. It did not frighten her, so engaged as she was with the enchantment that moved the stone.

The tongue receded into the maw, which was transforming into what was unmistakeably a stairway, leading down into the widening neck of the statue.

Chiân’s whole body seemed to straighten in wonder as she heard a hissing, magical voice breath its words towards her.

“ _Welcome… child of Slytherin.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-fifteen-27-hours-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	16. The Second Time

Chiân edged through the rows of students, ignoring people’s protests and cries of disgust, which she was sure was thanks to the stink clinging to her robes, despite her best efforts to siphon off the gunk with her wand.

The magnified voice of Royston Stanley-Clamp was booming through the Quidditch stands, introducing the second task and calling for another round of cheers for the champions. Chiân could not believe her timing. It had taken hours to figure out how to get out of the Chamber of Secrets, eventually thinking to ask a house-sized statue of Salazar Slytherin in parseltongue. The platform she had been directed towards had risen up for an incredibly long time until she stepped off into a passage that was this time most definitely made for humans.

After a long staircase which nearly defeated Chiân’s starved, exhausted body, she had found herself looking out through a sort of window. She had pushed it open and it had swung wide, slow and heavy, and she had dropped out of it into one of the corridors deep in the dungeons which she only knew because of her many wanderings through the lower levels of the castle.

She had turned around just in time to see an utterly nondescript portrait of a landscape closing behind her. She had barely stopped to mark where the painting was before running straight to the kitchens to get food. The house elves had fretted and fed her, and then one of them had asked her why she was not attending the second task presentation, which was just starting out in the grounds.

“Chiân!” shrieked Vessy, spotting her and jumping to her feet as Kyril ducked out of the way, gagging at the smell. “Oh GOD you stink,” she said, pulling back from the hug she had been about to throw upon Chiân.

“I know, I’m sorry. S’cuse me, sorry Calix, yes, I _know.”_

Lydia leant behind Vessy and smacked Chiân hard across the arm as she sat down, her face pale. Then she gripped her. “We thought you’d been _eaten,”_ she hissed dramatically and Chiân made vague apologetic noises.

“Where the hell have you been?” said Vessy. Both of them looked desperately worried. Chiân wasn’t surprised. She had been gone for over a day.

“I’ll tell you later,” she muttered, then glanced apologetically at the third years behind her who were clapping hands over their mouths and noses.

Annabeth Rimsky-Goddard leant over to Chiân. “Hey Firebug, no offense but… _turgify,”_ she said, pointing her wand at Chiân’s robes. Some of the muck and slime disappeared and the stench lessened considerably.

“Thanks,” said Chiân, relieved, then turned to watch.

Aceline, first in points, was stepping up to present her work. Her voice had also been magnified and in a pleasant French drawl she told them all about her approach to creating the ‘biggest’ project. With a theatrical flourish and wave of her wand the tent behind her vanished. It revealed a dense sphere of cloudy grey and golden light. For one mad moment Chiân thought it was one of the orbs from the vault of curiosities she and her friends had broken into last year.

Then she cried impressively, “for this second task I give you… the weather.” She lifted the ball high above her with her wand so that it was at eye level with Chiân and the rest of the school. It was expanding rapidly, the wall of it moving towards them at an alarming speed until suddenly they were engulfed in heavy rain that had not been there before.

Chiân, who was only recently dry, was ready to be thoroughly disgruntled at this new soaking, but then she realised that there was no water: the rain was made of a light, translucent magic. As the others realised the same Chiân looked out into the quidditch arena. It was a wondrous sight. Over the stadium the orb had created a dome, and within it, around the stands, moving beneath the feet of the audience and emerging back out of the ground, were clouds, sunbeams, rainbows, snowstorms, all in miniature, forming and un-forming against each other, all falling inwards towards Aceline, who stood at the epicentre like the planet beneath rain, conducting it all with her wand.

Still speaking in that loud, magnified voice, she explained calmly that she had created an exact working replica of the weather systems of the earth. She pointed upwards and along, showing them the glowing golden lines on the inside of the dome which demarcated longitude, latitude, and the poles. She reached out her wand and spun the globe around like she was manoeuvring a unique and spectacular planetarium sky. She showed them the South Pole, pulling into place at the top of the dome, pointing out the weather in various parts of the world, what was happening over Beauxbatons institute in her home country, then aligning them with England, where the sky was patched with miniature clouds and dusky sunlight.

The walls of the huge globe changed from bright daylight to regal purples and navy blues as she demonstrated the weather across different time zones and hemispheres. Aceline finished by saying proudly that the whole thing could be easily manipulated to be the size of a globe, or the globe, and with a flick of her wand it shrank back, now the size of a crystal ball in her hand.

The stadium erupted in applause and cheers, and Roy approached her on the plinth to interview her for a few minutes about how she had come up with and then created such an impressive instrument. She was just explaining something to do with a ‘contiguous mirroring charm’ when Chiân heard protests and complaints behind her, and someone growling “look, move or I’ll hex you.”

She, Vessy and Lydia turned around to see Pretoria and Sam dislodging the third years, who were grumbling and shuffling along the benches out of their way.

“Firebug, where the fuck have you been?” demanded Pretoria, glaring at her as Sam said “are you okay? Nobody could find you yesterday.”

“We had to tell Professor Wexel that you were having really bad period cramps,” said Lydia. They were all looking at Chiân with a mixture of accusation and exasperation.

Alec on the row behind them leant in. “Look, can you shut up and have your pow-wow later?”

“Yes, sorry” Chiân said to him quickly. “I will tell you all later, I promise,” she said, giving each girl a meaningful look. Chiân had been sufficiently distracted by Aceline’s project that she had momentarily managed to put from her mind the Chamber of Secrets and her day-long exploration through the bowels of the castle.

Another round of applause made them turn back to the pitch to see Aceline waving in appreciation, taking her seat on a bench behind the judges’ table.

It was Lilike’s turn. Nobody knew what Lilike’s plan was, as she had been the only one of the three to not work on it in the given arena. She was carrying nothing with her but her wand, and she stepped up to the plinth looking nervous but determined. Unlike Aceline she did not introduce her task, which was modelled on the word ‘brightest’.

The stands watched in silence as she stood, short and thin on the stand at the centre of the pitch. She was holding her wand at eye-level and was moving it in tiny, complex patterns. Her hands and eyes were animated, and Chiân imagined she was also speaking incantations as she worked on whatever magic she was conjuring.

After a few minutes of this the audience was beginning to get restless and bored. Chiân could hear grumbling and murmured conversations sprouting up through the stands. She did not take her eyes off Lilike. She knew from her own very recent experience that the most complex kinds of magic could not be reduced to pointing and speaking.

However, this went on for an absurdly long time – nearly twenty minutes. Lilike was pacing around the stage, her face screwed up in concentration, the chatter of the crowd unacknowledged and irrelevant to the Durmstrang champion. All at once she made a motion as if to release something and all around her burst a ring of fire. Screams ran around the stadium, undercut with gasps and applause. Lilike was still concentrating furiously, lifting and moving the fire with her outstretched wand and hand.

The fire was a brighter white than normal fire, and seemed to dance with exaggerated slowness. She lifted the entire ring of flame so that it hovered in a hoop around her, rising until it was above her head.

Lilike raised her arms in triumph, gesturing to it, and said two words, which boomed through the stands.

“Gubraithian Fire.”

Chiân’s confusion was mirrored in Vessy and Lydia’s faces as they glanced at each other, but behind them Chiân heard Sam give a soft “ohh…”

The judges seemed equally impressed. Two of them got up and scurried forwards to examine it. Lilike had tightened the ring so that it constricted, becoming almost too bright to look at as it shrank. Chiân squinted down at the scene, just able to make out Lilike stood before the two judges. The champion conjured something from the air – a box of some kind, and then the light was gone, the fire shut into the small chest in Lilike’s arms, and the audience, blinking and looking around, murmuring in confusion.

Lilike was speaking to the judges and Roy came running forwards, explaining with wild excitement that Lilike had just successfully created a very rare thing called ‘Gubraithian Fire’, which would never go out, and was an extremely advanced piece of magic, or something. His words were partially lost as Lilike raised her hands to the audience, beaming, and everyone finally released the cheers and applause they had been holding for her.

Xerxes stepped up to his own plinth in the gathering dusk, looking supremely regal in his confident smile and tall, broad-chested posture of attention.

He raised his hands in greeting, asking the crowd for silence after their warmest welcome yet. His voice too was loud and clear. “For the consideration of the judges, and for the enjoyment of you all, I would like to present… the most beautiful magic.”

He stepped into the middle of his ring of stones, and raised his wand like a conductor’s baton. He flicked it at one of the stones, which began to glow, and then a sound came from it. It was a low, thrumming drone on a single note. The next one joined, a different note, meshing with the first.

The sound was ethereal. Chiân closed her eyes to listen as he activated the next, and then the next, and the next. It was like wind over mountains, like the black silence of an ocean, which Chiân could conjure to mind all too well. It was other-worldly, yet profoundly familiar – as ancient and eternal a music as the earth itself.

Then it changed, morphing into voices, into something that almost sounded like words. Xerxes' voice called something out that Chiân missed, and she opened her eyes, looking back down at him. The circle that was demarcated by the stones was illuminated and she realised it was a clock face, but in the place of numbers were strange symbols and runes that were decorated with images that seemed from every tribe and heritage of the world.

Xerxes slowly moved around the face of the clock, seeming to act as a kind of hour hand. As he moved, the music, ringing clear through every head and heart in the stands, morphed and changed. He only took a step every few minutes, but it seemed too fast.

Chiân was vaguely aware that Vessy beside her was crying, sniffing quietly, her hands over her mouth. Chiân was too entranced to comfort her. She was completely enchanted by the music. It was multi-layered, increasingly complicated, and breathtaking. Xerxes was calling out names and words which meant very little Chiân, though in that moment nothing in the world mattered as much as the music.

At one point he stepped forwards and called “Malinke!” and pressed his hands over his heart in a kind of joyful salute. Drums joined the mix of sounds, complex and articulate, making Chiân want to leap out of her seat and dance. Across the stands she could see many groups of students doing exactly that.

With a later step he called out “Konnakol!” and voices, quick and low and as complex in rhythm as the drums joined in the throng. Each new sound that was introduced as he walked the circle only added to the mystery of the sound. “Dumka!” came another sound and through the singing and chanting, the mysteriously trilling voices, came higher voices, singing, crying out, calling.

Chiân found that she, too, was crying, as Xerxes reached the start of the circle once more. The soundscape was multi-layered, considered, and beautiful. Almost unbearably so. Chiân could hardly breathe for wonder.

He stepped into the middle of the circle and raised his arms. The music built to a soaring precipice and seemed to take in its breath as he said a final word: “Phoenix.”

And out of the wilderness of music raised a sound that was more piercing, more haunting, and more hopeful than any sound Chiân had heard in her life. Beneath the note the rest of the music changed, taking a backseat, painting a landscape behind that one devastating, pure voice.

And it was over.

The whole world seemed to bow its head in one poignant, blinding moment of peace, and then someone gave a yelling great whoop, and the spell was broken. Chiân and everyone else in the stands were on their feet clapping and screaming for Xerxes Diaphany, who had written a symphony of wonder and memory, culture and heritage and experience. Breathless with emotion, Roy interviewed him, asking about his choices of the different peoples and places to represent, and how long it had taken him to write it all.

It was testament to how astonishing the music had been that he received almost as many points as the other two champions put together. Neither of them seemed too upset, though, with both Aceline and Lilike giving him hugs of congratulations once the crowd had finally settled down enough to deliver the scores.

Nobody could talk about anything else as the crowd was released to return to the castle. The Hufflepuffs flooded the pitch as soon as they were allowed, yelling and dancing, some of them singing the motifs and refrains from Xerxes’ song. Chiân watched them dancing and singing with a grin as she exited the stands. It was slow going, waiting for the jubilant Hufflepuffs to stop celebrating their now leading champion long enough to let everyone else leave the quidditch arena.

The Great Hall was open so that people could mill around and re-live the show, and Chiân walked in with Vessy and Lydia, both of whom seemed to have forgotten her recent absence in the delight and wonder of the magic. They sat with the boys at the Slytherin table, and Chiân looked out across the room, quietly cherishing the astonishing music in her heart of hearts as the others chatted.

Xerxes was still outside with his friends and supporters, but the Hufflepuff table was still the rowdiest in the hall by far. Students were sat on the table to talk loudly with their friends in tight clusters. Couples were holding each other and, in some cases, making out quite passionately. Chiân watched as Isaac Murrays in fifth year reached over to slap Wallaby Peppers on the back of the head, interrupting his rather over-zealous kissing session with Helga Martens. The two of them laughed unabashedly and Wallaby led her from the Great Hall by the hand out into the night, no doubt to resume kissing somewhere more private.

Lilike was sat perched on the edge of the Ravenclaw table surrounded by admirers from all three schools. The chest was sat on her lap and she was explaining something excitedly to those around her. Chiân looked around for Pretoria and Sam but could not see them, and wondered if they too had gone somewhere to have a good make-out session. Spirits were certainly running high throughout the castle.

Vessy was crying again, emotionally recounting in a loud voice every second of how the music had made her feel. Chiân grinned and excused herself quietly from the group. The horrible darkness of the last thirty-odd hours, the fatigue, the weakness, and the overwhelming loneliness of it was creeping back into her, reminding her that the last she had slept was on the cold, stone ground of a disused sewage tunnel, next to the burning remains of a mer-man who had been murdered by a basilisk she had set loose in the castle.

Lydia glanced at her as she walked past but Chiân reassured her that she was just going back to the dorm, and that she’d talk to her later. Asher leapt up from the Gryffindor table as she passed it and hurried over to her. Tiff was also looking like she wanted to follow, but Chiân smiled at her quickly, hoping with a little bit of guilt that she didn’t.

“Chiân! Oh my god, you’re okay! Vess and Lydia said-“ Asher began, eyes wide.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Hey, walk with me?”

“Yeah, sure. Where are we going?” he asked, falling quickly into step with her.

Chiân was still desperately hungry, so she walked Asher to the school kitchens, directing him to step up to the portrait and tickle the pear, enjoying his look of amazement at what lay beyond. The elves were as delighted to meet him as he was to discover them, and Chiân gratefully accepted their keen offer of hot cocoa and some freshly baked muffins.

Chiân told Asher everything – about the spiders, about entering the lake and the climb into the rock, about sealing the passage and about her long, excruciating journey to find the Chamber of Secrets. He made a gratifying audience, giving all the right reactions and gasps when they were due, and he looked downright impressed when she told him about getting through the snake-head entrance to the chamber.

Here her descriptors failed her a little. How to describe the chamber itself? The size of it? The scope of the place? The antechamber and the walkways, the statues, the sign of the snake over every doorway. The place had been reeling with magic as old as anything Chiân had ever felt. If it hadn’t been for the second task just now she was sure she would say it was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced.

But it was hard to communicate this to Asher. All she could conjure up was the dark marble pillars and the tiled floors, the size of the statues, and the pervading sense of power and mystery that hung around the halls like smoke.

He had started to ask her about where the entrance was concealed in the school but she shook her head, putting down her empty cocoa cup. “Yeah, I’m not gonna lie I don’t know. I’m not sure where I came out.” This was not technically a lie. She knew she had exited a painting in the dungeons, and she knew what that painting looked like, but for some reason she just didn’t feel like sharing that right this instance.

Asher didn’t press it, putting down his mug as well and giving her an awed look. “You found the flipping Chamber of Secrets,” he whispered. “That’s insane.”

“I know, right?” she said, grinning despite her exhaustion.

“Oh my god,” he said, almost to himself, looking around the warmly lit cavern at the house elves, bustling around happily making pots of tea and coffee and sending them up to various parts of the castle with waves of their tiny, bony arms.

“Yeah. Look, I’d love to like, I don’t know, enthuse about it some more, but right now-“

“Oh god, yeah, I bet you’re knackered,” he said earnestly. “Also like no offense but you should have a shower.”

Chiân laughed and they got up to leave. “That is exactly the plan.” They thanked the elves and left the kitchen, Chiân a little reluctantly, because it was warm and comforting and safe, not to mention reassuringly busy in there – just the opposite of the tunnels.

Asher bid her goodnight and sped off back to the Great Hall where Chiân was sure the festivities would last long into the morning. She made her tired way down to the dungeons and was just approaching the stretch of blank wall which led to the common room when she saw a figure coming in the other direction.

It was Zerry Gilgamesh, looking clean and slightly damp. They had a towel over their arm and smiled at Chiân. “Hello, Firebug.”

“Hey, Zerry,” she smiled.

“Hey haven’t you been missing in action for like two days? How come you’re back?”

“Oh,” Chiân waved her hand vaguely, realising that she would have to come up with a story soon enough if her absence had spread this far. “Got stuck in a sewage pipe,” she said with a rueful grin. It was kind of the truth.

“Oh god are you kidding?” Zerry looked horrified and Chiân shook her head. “Oh god I’m so sorry, that’s disgusting. What, did a toilet explode or something like that?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Zerry’s face was full of pity, and a healthy dollop of repulsion. “Look, d’you wanna use the prefect’s bathroom, down there?” Zerry pointed back the way they had come. “You can have a proper bath and there’s all these amazing bubble-baths and soaps and stuff…”

Chiân did not need to be asked twice. Zerry showed her to the door, which was hidden behind a tapestry of a pine forest. “Password’s ‘tentacular’, and nobody else will get in while you’re in there, so don’t worry about locking it.”

Chiân thanked Zerry profusely, and returned to the common room with them to get a clean pair of pyjamas and a towel from her dorm. She beamed at the fifth year as she made her way back across the common room, deeply excited to melt into a proper bathtub and not be disturbed for as long as she fancied.

She thought, once she had entered the door behind the tapestry, that ‘bath’ did not really cover it. Chiân had seen backyard swimming pools that were neither as wide nor as deep as this. Zerry had not done justice to the range of bubblebaths and soap, either, all of which were available from rows of silver taps along one edge of the large tiled basin.

Chiân remembered Pretoria once joking about how it would be worth pretending to be trans and going through the rigmarole of the teachers banning you from the girls and boys’ bathrooms just to use this place, and then Sam pointing out that she could have also just become a prefect. Chiân laughed at the memory as she undressed, tossing her filthy robe into a basket which was labelled ‘laundry’, where it was promptly transported away for cleaning.

Slipping into the warm, scented water was so utterly heavenly that Chiân actually shed a few tears. Her muscles had been aching and throbbing and Chiân could feel them releasing some of their tension in the thick concoction of bubbles and soap. Xerxes should have just run the judges a bubblebath, though Chiân happily, sinking down until everything but her nose was below the water, careful not to inhale.

She stayed there for a long, long time, feeling all the dirt and grime and stress and fear drain away from her with each renewal of the hot water. She scrubbed and scrubbed her hair and nails and neck and arms and legs, remembering the stench of the sewage and decay, then scrubbing some more just to tackle the horror which still stained her.

There was a clock in the prefect’s bathroom, which Chiân did not spot until she finally turned and climbed out of the bath, recognising with some reluctance that she was so sleepy she was probably in danger of nodding off in the water and drowning. It was a quarter past midnight, she saw, and gave a nervous laugh, wondering if Vessy and Lydia and the others would be back yet, and if so whether they would be freaking out that she was still not in her dorm.

Chiân selected one of the thick, fluffy white dressing gowns hanging in a cabinet near the door. It had the prefect badge embroidered on the breast in sliver and green. It was divinely comfy, and she spent another minute just enjoying the feel of something so clean and unsullied on her skin.

Finally, robed, decent, and clean, Chiân left the bathroom, towel over her arm, and padded back up the stone passageway towards the common room, a contented, sleepy smile on her face.

She slipped through the magical entrance way and was only half surprised to be greeted by a noise of people.

She was so befuddled with warmth and tiredness that it took a second for her to register the wrongness of those sounds.

There was a cry from the crowd and Lydia ran towards her, her face stricken and panicked. Vessy was right behind her, very different tears now pouring down her face.

Chiân was rooted to the spot as Lydia grabbed her.

“Chiân,” she croaked, looking positively wild with fright. “Chiân, Wallaby Peppers – that Hufflepuff guy, the one with the glasses – Chiân, he’s _dead.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-sixteen-the-second-time-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	17. Slytherin's Child

The world was keeling away from her. The evening was tipping, spinning, crashing in on itself. Though she couldn’t hear them from down in the Slytherin common room Chiân fancied the screams and shouts of song had become travesties now, here on the other side of death.

Nobody slept. Nobody left the common room. The school once more entered lockdown, but the confusion and panic of the castle seemed nothing compared to the bewildering state of Chiân’s head. Guilt, terror in the face of what she did not yet know for sure rose up around her, the same absolute darkness as the lake, impenetrable with even the strongest light, neither up nor down. Empty, solid, cold.

Details filtered through the school, making it to Chiân’s ears and wallowing there as she fought not to make sense of them. Wallaby Peppers and his girlfriend had been hiding in the fringes of the Forbidden Forest, making out in celebration of the triumphant evening. They had been attacked by something. Wallaby had been killed instantly. Helga Martens was in hospital.

Whispers – suspicions – whispers of a snake, whispers that Helga had been petrified, that she had been carried from the grounds by St. Mungo’s healers, frozen just like Matthew Tasker and Brett La Borge had been. Rumours of the basilisk. Talk of sending the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students home. Walks to and from the Great Hall for meals accompanied by teachers for the whole easter break.

People tried to speak to Chiân, but she was not sure where she had gone in her mind. She could not remember answering them, and wondered if she had. She sat, or she walked mindlessly with the groups who dragged her along. She ate if people put the food in front of her, and in her head a battle raged.

The days stretched into weeks and no confirmation came that it was the basilisk. Her friends – the others who knew, who were on her side of the injunction – had not heard. They discussed it in low voices, including Chiân because somehow, for some reason, it was _her_ problem, though they insisted it was not her fault.

The headmaster called them one by one to his office. He questioned Chiân seriously about where she had been on the night of the second task, but seemed to give a resigned sigh when she truthfully said she had been taking a bath. There had been two intimidating ministry officials there and Chiân had felt the discreet presence of someone prying into her thoughts, to check if she was lying. She let them, memories of the task and the bathroom and the shock of the news flooding to the front of her mind. The chamber below the school she hid securely away in a secret place. She had not told anyone but Asher. She had not had the chance.

Chiân had not had the courage to ask the headmaster if they had caught and killed the basilisk yet. He had once assured her that they would let her know if they had, but Chiân knew that didn’t mean much.

Summer began to struggle with the grief-ridden spring, prizing a horrible year from its hands as term began again and the days collapsed into each other. Chiân hated herself. The truth was she didn’t want them to find the basilisk. She attended the ceremony in memory of Wallaby Peppers along with everyone else in school, and she forced herself to look at his family, his three sisters – two of whom were already at Hogwarts, all in Hufflepuff – sobbing on their mother as Professor Meyerbeer gave a throaty speech. Yet still Chiân could not make herself vilify the creature.

Helga had returned from hospital, telling her horror story of looking up into her Wally’s eyes and seeing a flash of yellow in his glasses, of seeing the life leave him even as she herself was frozen rigid. Her grief was loud, frightened, and angry, and it bled through the student body like poison. Hatred of the Slytherins bred like frost in winter, creeping behind Chiân and her classmates as they walked down corridors. She saw them suffering, Vessy crying more than usual, Lydia becoming angry and confused, lashing out, fighting with her dorm-mates more and more frequently.

And still Chiân nurtured a secret, awful solidarity for the creature who had killed Wallaby Peppers. She could speak to it now – she could speak in the silky, serpentine magic of the snake – if only she could find it – warn it to run – or hide it, forever. Anything to stop them killing it.

Grief for the wrong parties tore at Chiân. Weight was dropping off her and her friends orbited her with worry and hurt as she pushed them away. She was a monster. She knew that for certain. She had killed her brother, and now she had killed the brother of Amy and Carmen Peppers, and their youngest sister whose name she did not even know. She knew it was squaring the circle – that it made no sense – but she could not let the snake die too.

The death sentence set for the basilisk loomed like a death sentence for her. They were both killers by nature, both monsters. They had both run, hidden, and been hated for what they had done. They were both a child of Slytherin. And they were both caught now in that struggle to become more than the fatal weaknesses of the snake.

Chiân thought she had at last understood what Professor Chancery had meant with all her cryptic talk of true gifts and self-destructive circles. The truest life came through acceptance of death. Maybe this was what it looked like to accept death – not her own death, though as the plan formed in her mind Chiân thought it may as well be her own. She was going to accept the death of her brother, and the death of Wallaby Peppers. She would not drown in guilt and grief any longer. She would find the snake herself, and she would force it to leave. She would make sure that every life in the castle and grounds was safe, including that of the basilisk.

Chiân did not know that there was anybody in the world who would understand this if she tried to explain it to them, which is why she did not try. More alone than she had ever been in her life, Chiân prepared.

She waited until almost mid-May, when exams were rearing and every person in the castle was drawn into the wells and stresses of revision. She picked a rainy evening and slipped, invisible, from the castle.

She walked in silence towards the forest. It had been at least a month since the Bruchs had stopped guarding the forest from the students at all moments of night and day – as if they had needed to. Nobody Chiân knew was ever likely to set foot in the Forbidden Forest again.

Chiân entered the trees, her wand in her pocket. She was not wearing her robes. It was late evening and she was in leggings and her favourite Pikachu hoodie. She walked for a long time into the trees, holding in the forefront of her mind that moment when she had stood before one of the guarded entrances to the Chamber of Secrets and learnt the magic of the snake.

She was calling to it, reaching out into the minds of the many hidden creatures around her as she walked. She held that specific serpentine magic out like a siren call, beckoning it to her. Chiân had not doubted for a second that it would work. The forest was dusky and dark, and even though the summer nights were long and light she was soon deep enough in that it made no difference. It was the dead of night here in the heart of the forest.

Then, distinct and familiar, she felt it. It was far off, but clear. She froze where she was standing, in a slightly more spacious copse than much of what she had wandered through in the last hour. She shut her eyes, still calling in her head.

She felt the massive mind of the basilisk listening. It was confused. She could sense it. It was suspicious of the magic it could feel beckoning it. But it knew that call – somewhere deep and instinctual – and knew it must obey.

Chiân was breathing deeply as she felt the basilisk turn and begin to move towards her. She asserted herself, stepping more fully into its mind. She could not see where it was, could not fathom the darkness that was the only thing in its eyes. It seemed to be sure of its path, though.

It could feel her, she realised with a start. That same magic, that alien kind of thought, was reaching back to her, inquisitive, submissive, eager to please, and curious.

“ _I am Firebug_ ,” said Chiân in her mind. The thought was not in English, but riddled with a borrowed magic she had only learnt. It was native to the snake in a way she knew it would never be to her, though she felt a slight thrill that it understood her. “ _You must go away from this place.”_

The basilisk slowed, its huge, powerful body sensing the command, but questioning it with eerie, reasoned patience. It was asking her why.

“ _You have killed.”_ Chiân conjured up her few memories of Wallaby Peppers, thrusting his face out into this strange shared psychic space. She felt the snake flicker its tongue in recognition and that same self-loathing roiled through her.

But then it responded, a strangely remorseful whimsy answering the memory Chiân put to it. Had it not meant to kill him? Eyes still shut, breathing in deliberate, slow movements, Chiân asked the snake to explain.

It showed her how it had tried to return to its home, its hiding place in the heart of the earth, but could no longer get through the cave. It had been forced to return to the forest where it had been hunting, forced to slide through the shadows, trying to find somewhere safe. It had seen the children, but it did not attack unless commanded to do so, and so it had moved past, not sparing a second glance for the humans.

Wallaby Peppers had been collateral damage because the basilisk had been forced to return to the forest. Chiân had not thought that she could be any more directly responsible for Wallaby’s death, but she was wrong. She fell to the ground, her eyes still clamped shut even though the snake was miles away. She lay there on the leaves and the roots of the trees, still communing with the creature.

“ _I shut you out,”_ she told it. She showed it her spell that had sealed up the crack, showed it her entry into the Chamber of Secrets. She could feel its confusion. _“You did not attack the boy but he still died. I cannot let you into the castle. You are a danger to us.”_

The first anger, not quite the cool lust of the hunt and the kill, but a lethal defiance at her words rose up through the snake. And then Chiân let a memory surface: the parseltongue voice of the guardian outside the Chamber of Secrets, saying to her in this snake language ‘ _welcome, child of Slytherin’_.

And the basilisk was quieted – no, more than that – it was humbled. A word, a single word, it spoke back to her, soft and hissing even in this strange non-verbal speech they were sharing.

“ _Master”._

Chiân felt a deep, powerful thrill, and she knew the basilisk could feel it too, was recognising her as the heir of Slytherin – not a blood heir, but an heir to the magic, or maybe the identity, of the wizard who had founded her house and built the Chamber of Secrets, right at the heart of the castle.

And now Chiân knew the snake would obey her. “ _You must leave this place. They will kill you if they find you. You must leave here.”_

It protested, beseeching her with a shocking kind of longing in its heart. It seemed to tell her that this was home, that she was its master, and that it could not leave. More than that, it showed her a memory – of magic it had performed, bringing from the chambers below the castle the skull and bones of its kin, clothing them in its own discarded skin. It had laid them in the lake, hiding them well, and then when the boy had died, when the snake had been hunted through the forest, it had escaped into the lake and uncovered them. It showed Chiân how it had listened from its hiding place in the reeds as the mer-people of the lake had rejoiced over its body and rushed to tell the men of the castle above that the beast was dead, was drowned in the waters of their land.

Only as Chiân watched the memories the basilisk showed her did she realised with a soul-deep chill just how much more than a snake this creature was. It thought and reasoned – it had recognised the danger it was in after Wallaby’s death and it had faked its own death, fooling the staff and people of Hogwarts, free again to leave the lake and hunt in the forest. It only attacked, only killed deliberately if ordered to. How could she hate it – how could she fear it? – for killing accidentally. Hadn’t she done as much even as a child?

Chiân hesitated. If anybody knew what she was doing right now it would be over. If her teachers, or the ministry knew, she would be imprisoned and the snake killed. If her friends knew, they would flee from her, disgust in their faces. It was too late to back down from this route. She had already made her choice.

She spoke to the snake. “ _Then hide. Hide for now, and I will come for you. I will protect you, and I will take you back to the Chamber of Secrets. You will be safe there, and you will be secret.”_

Its answering thankfulness was almost too much for Chiân. She did not know what she was becoming, what she was choosing.

“ _Do you have somewhere to hide?”_

It showed her the strange, dark place, difficult for anything to get into – tight like an underground cave of rock, but warmer – drier. That’s where it was right now. It had seen no other living thing here. It was safe.

“ _Good. Stay there. Leave for food and water if you must, but stay hidden. I will come for you. I will hide you.”_

The basilisk submitted, taking the imprint of her will in a strange reversal of the forced control she had been practicing all year. She could feel it relishing in her command, already planning how it could sleep, dormant and hidden, to minimise how often it needed to drink and feed. It could stay there for weeks, it hoped, until its master came to save it.

She felt its thoughts dwell on her, heard her own magical, parseltongue speech echoing back at her, and she realised that it was thanking her.

Chiân opened her eyes on the forest floor and let the snake fall away, her mind coming back to her body. She was herself and only herself once more. The exhaustion of communing with the basilisk had wiped her out and she made her way back to the castle slowly, though she met with very little trouble along the way. She imagined that the presence of a basilisk in the forest was making the other wildlife pretty reclusive.

So it had faked its own death. That was why the tournament had not been called off – why the students of the other schools had not been sent home – why they were no longer chaperoned to classes and why the Bruchs no longer guarded the forest.

They all thought it was dead. Chiân realised that she was smiling. She was impressed with the monster. Some small part of her still observed this bond, now strengthened tenfold, with horror and fear, but it was an old fear – a fear of herself that she knew very well. She may be a monster herself, but there was something immensely liberating about knowing that not only was the basilisk safe, but that it would not attack anybody else. They thought it was dead, and she would be able to save it without telling a single soul, hiding it in the Chamber of Secrets, where it would obey her command, and never kill again for as long as Chiân lived.

The agony and mental darkness of the past few months seemed to be sliding away, healing with each comfortable day. The uncertainty was over, and Chiân suddenly found herself alive, awake, and alert.

She threw herself back into her classes as she did her friendships, which needed her effort just as badly. Lydia was mollified quickly by Chiân’s renewed fervour as her tutor in all subjects, so relieved that Chiân was helping her with exam revision that she stopped being annoyed at her distance in the last few months. Vessy tearfully exclaimed that they should all take the same electives for the next year so that they could stick together, and Chiân agreed, happy that there was such a straightforward way to show both of them that she loved them.

The third task of the tournament was set to happen immediately after exams, as a kind of end-of-year celebration. It was scheduled for the night of the 14th of June, which was also Chiân’s birthday. She had not given much thought to this, but it seemed nice to consider that there was a ready-made event for her to look forward to as she turned thirteen.

Chiân was back to joining her regular study group of second years in the library, sitting next to Asher and working, whispering, swapping rumours with Tiff, Vessy, Egan, Calix and Lydia. Max was no longer joining them, and the Ravenclaws seemed to be steering clear as well.

Chiân commented on this one afternoon, the day before their History of Magic exam. “Hey, I saw Max earlier in the charms corridor. I asked him if he wanted to join us here and he looked like I’d just told I’m I was going to poison his mother. What’s that about?” she said quietly once Mr Timmins had passed their table.

Asher gave her a strange look. “Chiân, literally everybody is afraid of you, you know that, right?”

“What?” she was startled.

“Well, not you specifically – all the Slytherins. Even though the, uh,” he looked around and bent in even closer, “even though Roxanne is supposedly dead now, since Helga came back from St Mungo’s the whole school had been convinced that there’s some ‘heir of Slytherin’ who is out to kill all the Hufflepuffs.”

Chiân stared at him, but was focused on only one thing. “Wait, the… Roxanne is dead?” Chiân was struggling to keep the fear out of her face, desperately hoping that this was merely a rumour of the body in the lake and not a recent development.

“Well yeah, nobody knows for sure, but apparently Meyerbeer told the Hufflepuffs that they’d found the body, like weeks after Wallaby Peppers… y’know.”

“Oh,” said Chiân, her shoulders relaxing as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Asher interpreted this in the only way he could. “You didn’t know? Oh god I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

She shook her head and gave him a strained smile. “It’s okay. I… don’t know if you’d noticed but I’ve not exactly been with it over the last two months.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m glad it’s over,”

The History of Magic exam went reasonably well in Chiân’s opinion, but they didn’t have time to dwell on it before their Transfiguration practical the next day, which was much, much harder. Chiân felt quietly confident that she aced her Potions exam, though Vessy had added dillygrout instead of shrubwart and the dungeon had to be evacuated for ten minutes while Professor Schnittke cleared the room of the resultant noxious gas.

Chiân was trying to spend as much time as possible with Sam and Pretoria, despite their extreme run of exams. She was brutally aware that it was less than a month before they would be graduating from Hogwarts forever, and Chiân was kicking herself for not lamenting this sooner. She and Asher made a series of cards for the two seventh year girls – Asher would draw some goofy cartoon of Pretoria being asked out by the Beauxbatons boy, or Sam standing in front of the Fiendfyre in the vault, and Chiân would write an encouragement in it and give it to them before each exam.

Three days before the final task Chiân and the others were sitting their last exam, which was the written Defence Against the Dark Arts test. They were up in Professor Faustus’s classroom because the Great Hall was currently hosting the final NEWT exam. It was a Transfiguration practical, which Chiân only knew because it was Sam and Pretoria’s final exam before the summer.

“Time’s up. Please stop writing,” called Professor Faustus. Chiân scribbled a final few words of a rather bloated conclusion about material jinxes on inanimate objects. “Maeroris, Fife, quills down _now.”_ Her quill was plucked magically from her hand as she went to dot her final full stop, and she huffed in relief, sitting back in her chair. She was done.

“Am I right in thinking that you’re all finished now for the year?” said Professor Faustus to the class as the papers flew towards him. They all chorused a yes to him, some people giving a small ‘whoop’.

He smiled at them, a rare look for the old man. “Well, I’m sure you’re all looking forward to the third task, and I don’t mind telling you it’s going to be a real treat.” Chiân’s classmates sat up, clamouring for more details. He simply shook his head, secretive and knowing, enjoying the buzz of excitement he had awoken in his class.

Chiân had some important business to take care of before the third task. She would have a week after the task to do it as well, but now that her exams were out of the way she wanted to go ahead and capture the basilisk, to take it down to the Chamber of Secrets where it would be safe, and where everyone else would be safe from it.

Chiân’s exploration of the chamber had led her into a deep, cavernous lair behind the stone statue of Slytherin himself, where she had discovered a ready-made cradle of powerful enchantments designed, she was certain, for the basilisk itself. It was a nest of everlasting sleep that would bind and sustain the creature until its rightful master chose to awaken it. It was activated and controlled with parseltongue, which at the time Chiân had remarked and assumed would put it beyond her usage.

Now, however, she had made a plan. The evening of the final exams was a raucous, alcohol-fuelled party in the common room. Pretoria and Sam were as merry as the rest of the seventh years, and Chiân joined in the delight and revelry with them, hugging them and crying with the rest when the finalists started swapping misty-eyed tales from their seven years at the castle.

Chiân was careful not to drink throughout the evening, mindful of the task at hand. Everyone inevitably slept in the next morning, dehydrated and groggy with over-indulgence. Chiân rose at quarter past five and quietly got dressed in the dorm room, the quiet light of the aquarium letting her find her shoes in the darkness. Lydia and Vessy had not come up to bed until nearly four in the morning, and were now out cold, Lydia still fully dressed on top of her covers. Chiân quietly pulled her suitcase out from under her bed and rummaged through it by the pale light of her wand. She found what she was looking for: half of a purple, overgrown walnut shell on a string.

Chiân smiled and hung the Guivernian pod fragment around her neck. She cast a heavy disillusionment charm over herself as she left the common rom where many members of Slytherin house were passed out, or else mumbling drunkenly to each other.

She knew what she was looking for down in the depths of the dungeons, but it still took her nearly an hour to find it. A painting of a pool of water before some hills, surrounded by a thicket of dark trees. She stepped closer, peering into the water of the pool. There was a shape there, a little like an ‘s’ – maybe a serpent, hidden beneath the water, poised and waiting.

Chiân mustered up her newfound magic, and spoke in parseltongue to the painting. “ _Open.”_

She saw the shape in the water move, turning and recoiling on itself until it became a dark spot, which began rising to the top of the painted water, protruding from the canvas itself, extending out towards Chiân like a door handle.

Triumphant and excited, Chiân pulled open the concealed passageway and climbed in, pulling shut the painting-door behind her, which closed with a satisfying click.

She followed the stairs and long, winding tunnel quickly, eager to enter the chamber itself once more. After nearly twenty minutes of descending downwards beneath the castle she stepped out into the antechamber. Immediately, confident and strikingly at home amongst the statues of snakes and the pillars of black marble, Chiân set off for the main chamber, where the towering figure of Salazar Slytherin loomed in the darkness.

It took Chiân only an hour to replicate the magic of that pre-prepared basilisk lair. She spent some time listening attentively, exploring the magic with her wand pressed against her palm, combing through it with her mind to work out the shape and intention of the spells. Satisfied that she had the basic structure of the enchantment, Chiân duplicated the Guivernian shell around her neck. It hovered in the air in front of her, reforming into two identical halves. Chiân poked and drew with her fingers, wand still gripped in her right hand along her palm, until the two halves were hinged together with a passable sort of clasp.

Chiân lined the pod with the magic of the lair, infusing the hard casing with the powerful enchantments she was borrowing and copying from the chamber around her. Finally she was satisfied that the seed around her neck was a sufficient carrying case for a basilisk, complete with a targeted siren-call of snake magic, spells of sleep and sustenance, and a binding lock of magic which only a parselmouth could open.

By the time Chiân got back up to the castle it was past seven o’clock, and the Slytherin common room was just as quiet, just as messy. Chiân had expected it to take a lot longer – maybe even several trips – to perfect the pod so that she was satisfied she would be able to catch the basilisk in it and transport it down to the chamber. She didn’t feel like she needed to go out into the forest immediately – perhaps it could even wait until tomorrow.

Chiân thought about telling Asher the whole truth later that day as she sat out in the sunshine with a whole group of second years. She mostly wanted to show him the pod hanging around her neck, tucked beneath her shirt, and see him laugh when she told him she’d gotten the idea from Pokémon and had essentially built her own poké ball.

She refrained, however, letting the basilisk slide from her thoughts. For two days she did not worry, basking in the summer sunshine and the freedom from exams with her friends. Even the rude gestures and insults from the Hufflepuffs as they passed the Slytherin table at dinner times did not dampen the lightness she was feeling.

Pretoria and Sam burst into the girls’ dormitory on the morning of the fourteenth, belting out ‘happy birthday’ at the top of their lungs, causing Vessy to wake with a scream of panic. Chiân laughed and leapt out of bed to hug them, trying not to think about the fact that they were entering the final week where Chiân would have two of her favourite people in the whole world in school with her.

“Birthday breakfast?” asked Sam happily, sitting on the end of Chiân’s bed.

“The others are joining us at ten,” said Pretoria, and Chiân felt her heart burst when she realised that Pretoria meant Becky, Theo, Ozzy, and Asher.

“Though we’re gonna sit on the Slytherin table this year,” added Sam, addressing all three second years. “Because I think you guys might be hexed if you try to sit at our table.”

Lydia scowled, pulling a jumper over her pyjamas. “Bastards.”

“They’re fine,” said Chiân, rolling her eyes at her. “To be fair, we would also be pretty pissed if we thought that someone in Gryffindor house had been attacking students with a basilisk,” seethed Chiân, and Lydia made a ‘fair enough’ kind of noise.

“Wait!” yelled Vessy, pointing at Chiân. “You just said basilisk! You just said it!”

“Holy shit,” said Pretoria, looking at her as well. Then she tried it out. “Basilisk – yes!”

Pretoria and Sam had gone to Petrarch before their exams to insist that the injunction be lifted. He had protested that it wasn’t his to undo, but had acquiesced to send a letter to the ministry asking for its removal. Apparently it had finally done the trick. Chiân whooped with Vessy and Lydia while the older two Slytherins exclaimed apologies to the absent headmaster for ever doubting him.

Chiân managed not to feel guilty at all as they made their way out of the common room, the others still rejoicing loudly that it was all over at last. She had the Guivernian pod around her neck, and she was ready after the task that evening to go find the snake and lock it away once and for all.

Asher was already waiting in the entrance hall when Chiân and the others arrived. He hugged her and then let go quickly to yell happy birthday. He walked with them to the Slytherin table, ignoring the glares and frowns from the other tables. The other three Gryffindors arrived at quarter past ten, Ozzy looking as sleep-dishevelled as ever, but clapping Chiân on the back with an almighty grin as he sat down.

“Alright, Firebug? Good morrow, Samster, Pret-A-Manger,” he said, nodding to Sam and Pretoria, who gave him amused looks. Becky and Theo had been waylaid by an angry looking seventh year Gryffindor called Mariah Desplatte, but Becky waved the hand that was not holding Theo’s impatiently and pulled him past her.

“Mariah thinks we’re putting our heads in the proverbial serpent’s mouth,” she said when she reached the table. “Happy birthday, Firebug!”

“Happy birthday,” said Theo in a distracted kind of way. “Just wanted to double check – are you in fact the heir of Slytherin?” he said, giving Chiân a solemn look. Ozzy and Pretoria snorted with laughter, which saved Chiân the trouble of answering.

“Just wanted to check,” said Theo, grinning. “There’s been some talk.”

Vessy and Lydia sat either side of Chiân, delighted to be part of the group as Sam told the Gryffindors that the injunction was lifted and they all started shouting at once. Vessy put her arm through Chiân’s and beamed at her, looking radiant.

A few minutes later two of the Durmstrang boys approached their group. Chiân noticed that they were holding hands and looking excitedly at Sam and Pretoria.

“Sam! Pretovia!” cried the taller of the two, coming to stand behind Ozzy and Theo, who craned around to look at them.

“Oh, guys, this is Lucan and Laszlo,” said Sam as Pretoria greeted them. “They got together because they saw us at the ball,” she beamed at Chiân.

“Yes!” said Lucan Weltz, beaming. “Ve are not having the courage to but ve are seeing these girls and,” he shrugged happily and looked at Laszlo.

“Anyway!” Laszlo was having a slightly easier time with his ws. “Have you heard yet what is the final task? Lilike is taking us to see! Vould you like to come?”

Pretoria and Sam looked at Chiân. “It’s your party,” said Pretoria, grinning.

“Are you kidding me? Let’s go!” she said, grinning back.

Ozzy whooped and got to his feet. “Lead the way, comrades!” he said to Lucan and Laszlo, who laughed good-naturedly.

They followed the Durmstrang couple out of the entrance hall. Tiff came rushing up to wish Chiân a happy birthday, and excitedly joined the group when Chiân told her where they were going.

“Do you guys know what the task is?” asked Vessy.

Lucan answered. “Oh, yes. You vill see!”

Asher and Tiff were joking next to Chiân and she was walking along surrounded by friends, feeling light and happy. She wasn’t even too worried that they were going into the Forest, because they did not seem to be going very far, moving along through the trees.

There were quite a few students stood around in a wide clearing, chatting and gazing at a tall stone archway and a low wall that ran off into the trees, sinking into the earth. Chiân moved forwards with the others, nudging Asher to shut up so that they could listen to the Durmstrang boys explain.

“It is a labyrinth!” said Laszlo excitedly. “The champions are going to be underground and searching through tunnels to find the prize! It is very complex and they are to be chased by a real minotaur!”

The others made exclamations that ranged from alarm to awe. Chiân stared forwards, imagining the tunnels stretching out before them, under the forest, dark and foreboding.

Pretoria said something about it not being very good viewing, and Laszlo shook his head, explaining that the school would be watching from the quidditch stands again, where the inside of the labyrinth would effectively be projected during the task that evening.

And then Chiân felt it. Ahead of her, beneath the ground, deep in the darkness of one of those very tunnels: the basilisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-seventeen-slytherins-child-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	18. Pokémon Green

Before Chiân could say anything, before she could process the situation, the voice of Mr Bruch rang out, asking them all to leave, and remonstrating that no students should even know about the task yet besides the champions. Everyone filtered away, grumbling and talking, but not daring to protest to the groundsman, stood aloof before the archway entrance to the labyrinth.

Chiân still had her mind far below ground, focused upon the sleeping basilisk, and was only semi-conscious of Vessy and Asher as they linked arms with her and turned her around.

“S’alright, Chiân,” said Tiffany kindly. “We’re not in trouble – I bet they half expect everyone to find out what the task is a long time before it actually happens.”

Chiân shook her head, staring ahead as they walked, her mind racing.

“Firebug? You okay?” called Becky, peering at her around Theo, who was also holding hands with Ozzy, laughing loudly about something.

Chiân swallowed. She had no choices, it seemed. She had been playing a dangerous game, and she needed her friends. The terror in her gut was not for the snake, nor for the champions who were hours away from entering its hideout, to their inevitable deaths. It was for herself, because surely not a single one of the people around her would remain her friends once she had come clean.

“Guys,” she said, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Guys, I need to talk to you. In private.” She met Vessy and Lydia’s eyes and nodded at them, then looked at Tiffany. “I’m really sorry, Tiff, but…”

She didn’t need to finish. Tiffany looked bravely non-offended. “That’s alright! I was going to go find Bell and Dory anyway.” She hurried away into the castle ahead of them, head down.

Asher frowned at Chiân. “What was that for?” The older students were looking at her.

She shook her head. “All of you, follow me, please,” and strode through the entrance hall, her friends exchanging what she knew to be baffled looks behind her. They’d waved goodbye to the Durmstrang boys back in the forest, so it was just them as Chiân entered one of the first classrooms on the ground floor. The eight others filed in past her looking bewildered, and Chiân slammed the door without touching it, sealing it violently with her panicked magic.

“Chiân, what’s-“ started Pretoria.

“The snake’s not dead,” said Chiân. They were going to murder her. Becky, Theo, and Ozzy especially would never speak to her again – and she couldn’t even look at Asher. It would be too painful to witness the horror and betrayal that was about to cross his face. “I need you to listen to me for a moment, and I need you to save the yelling for the end.”

Chiân took a deep breath and forced herself to meet their eyes, though still avoiding Asher’s. “The basilisk isn’t dead. It’s a long story but essentially I sealed the Chamber of Secrets just before the second task so that it couldn’t get back into the castle, and then… I told it to hide. I told it to hide in the forest because – because they were going to kill it. I didn’t order it to kill anybody. I’m not the heir of Slytherin, but I did learn parseltongue so I could work out what it was doing, where it was going. It made everyone think it was dead – it’s a really powerful creature and not just physically – it can think and reason and stuff-“ Chiân was having to fight the hysteria that was rising in her voice.

“Chiân-“

“Let me finish, Sam.” She took another deep breath. “I’ve already told some of you that I can see through the eyes of other animals – Vessy’s grandmother taught me how to do it last summer. Well, I found the basilisk that way, the night of the ball – when I fell over-“ Chiân couldn’t help glancing at Asher. His eyes were wide, his mouth opened, expression dumbstruck. “I… I felt so guilty when Wallaby Peppers died. I wanted to make sure everyone was safe. But I didn’t want to kill it – it – I – it didn’t mean to kill him – all I could think was that it was like me – I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I killed my brother by accident, and I just – it was just hiding when it saw him – it told me.”

Her voice broke a little. “I know I didn’t tell any of you. I know I’ve lied, and I know that… that you won’t want to even know me now that I’ve told you all this, but if you can just put that aside for the next like six hours, because… because it’s hiding in that labyrinth. I felt it. I know how to reach its mind now, and I told it to go hide, and it’s hiding in there. I need you to help me get into that labyrinth so that I can get the snake, or every single one of those champions is gonna die.”

Chiân closed her eyes, waiting for the screaming. Waiting for the Gryffindors to leap to their feet and cry bloody murder, waiting for Becky to have already left to tell the headmaster, for Pretoria and Sam to rage that she had endangered so many innocent people, and for what?

“Come again?” said Ozzy, mildly.

Chiân opened her eyes and stared around at them. Ozzy was gazing at her like she’d set him a particularly tricky essay question. Becky and Theo were wearing identical looks of amazement. Pretoria was frowning at her thoughtfully, and Sam, to Chiân’s utter bewilderment, was grinning, and spoke loudly in answer to Ozzy’s question.

“Firebug’s made friends with the snake, and didn’t tell anybody because it murdered a student and she’d thought we’d hate her.”

“Right, yeah, cool, okay, that’s what I thought she said,” nodded Ozzy sagely, clasping his hands like an old professor and leaning back on the desk.

Chiân looked at the other second years. Vessy’s mouth was hanging open, staring back at Chiân with blank surprise on her face. It was Lydia and Asher who broke through to her. As she watched they exchanged a look, eyebrows raised, then looked away as if they were going to laugh. Asher met her eyes with unmistakeable and deeply exasperated affection.

“What is going on?” Chiân exploded. “Why are you grinning, Ash? What the fuck is wrong with you all? I’m a _murderer-“_

“No, Chiân, you’re not,” said Pretoria loudly.

“I’ve been hiding a basilisk in the grounds for the last three months after it literally killed a kid!” she yelled at the antlered girl, who raised her eyebrows.

“What we’ve just heard,” said Becky, “is that you’re the reason nobody else got attacked after Wallaby Peppers died.”

Sam continued. “You’ve just told us that over the course of the past year you, uh, what, _learned parseltongue,_ used it to hunt down one of the deadliest creatures ever-“

“And you found the fucking _Chamber of Secrets,”_ interjected Ozzy.

“Which I would like to come back to, by the way, because how and also when and also what the fuck” said Sam, and Vessy made a noise of disgruntled agreement.

“Oh shit, that’s where you were before the second task!” said Lydia, smacking her forehead. “How come you never told us?”

Asher chuckled, then quailed under Chiân’s glare.

“And to top it all off you, uh, forced this basilisk to go into hiding underground so that when there was a safe moment you could, what, adopt it as a pet?” finished Sam.

“Yeah, what were you planning on doing with it exactly?” asked Theo.

Eight expectant faces were turned towards Chiân from the desks of the classroom. She stared at them all, overwhelmed and uncertain. “Um,” her voice a strained whisper, she pulled the magically reinforced Guivernian pod from beneath her shirt and showed it to them.

“I went back to the Chamber of Secrets the other day – there’s a, um, a bit of it that’s designed to be a kind of permanent sleeping place for, well, for basilisks. So I replicated those enchantments and also added spells so that if this gets opened near the basilisk it will like, be sucked in and trapped there.”

“Like a poké ball!” exclaimed Asher with a delighted grin.

“Um, yes – that’s actually exactly where I got the idea,” she admitted, still feeling overwhelmed and confused.

Theo and Ozzy laughed.

“I don’t… understand what’s happening. Aren’t you guys angry?”

“That you didn’t bloody tell us any of this shit? Yeah, livid, actually,” said Pretoria, and she slid off the desk, crossed to Chiân, and gave her a hug. Face pressed into her shoulder, Chiân furiously tried to bite back the tears that were thickening in her throat and eyes.

“Chiân,” said Sam, and Pretoria let go of her. “Do you have any idea how much of this year me and Pretoria have spent running around the grounds trying to find that fucking snake?”

“What? No?” she looked between the two of them.

Becky was nodding. “Ever since the first attack and that lockdown where we realised what was going on we’ve all been keeping a lookout.”

“We’ve been using the parchment scrolls to communicate,” said Theo, giving a nod to Sam’s spellwork. “Pret and Sam have been doing excursions around the castle and into the forest and lake and stuff looking for it.”

Chiân exchanged a look with Asher, who clearly had also not known this. “Why didn’t you say-“

“Because you’re twelve years old, Firebug,” said Pretoria with heavy exasperation.

“Thirteen now,” corrected Ozzy helpfully.

Pretoria ignored him. “And I get it, we did a Petrarch and we didn’t tell you, and that was shit of us, but you’ve been carrying responsibility for this thing ever since the vault last year, and frankly we figured you deserved a bit of a break.”

“Clearly we misjudged that one,” chuckled Becky.

“It’s not your fault, Chiân. It’s not,” said Pretoria, defying Chiân’s expression.

“You’re not a murderer,” said Sam. “You’re a good person. The fact that you’ve risked your own life so much this year to make sure that not only did nobody else get hurt but also to find a humane way to deal with the basilisk is just…”

“Bonkers,” said Asher.

“You know there’s a rumour that you’re the heir of Slytherin? Like some kind of You Know Who reborn?” said Becky in a thoughtful voice, gazing at Chiân.

Ozzy grinned. “It’s because you kept exploding last year. Most of Gryffindor thinks you’re full of some kind of dark magic. We keep telling everyone that there’s almost nobody here _less_ likely to be a blood-purist, murderous-snake-wielding freak show, but somehow they don’t believe us.” He shrugged with a comical, nonplussed look.

Chiân had to sit down. “You don’t hate me?” she finally asked, her voice small and pathetic.

All of them objected, shaking their heads and, in Vessy’s case, crying out in rejection of the very notion.

“Slightly afraid of you, not gonna lie,” said Becky, but her expression was gentle.

“Really?” Chiân’s chest tightened.

Pretoria scoffed again. “Chiân, you’re like, one of the most powerfully magical people I think any of us have ever met. You taught yourself parseltongue, you can do magic without a wand, you can possess animals and read minds – I mean-“

“Not to mention you apparently have a basilisk now that will come at your beck and call,” added Theo.

“Yeah,” said Sam, jumping in. “Honestly Chiân I mostly wish you’d told us what was going on because… well, we trust you.”

“Yeah, unlike the rest of the school I think I would have slept easier if I’d known you were on the case,” said Becky, giving her a warm smile.

“But what are we going to do?” persisted Chiân. “We can’t leave the basilisk there or… or someone will die – many people, maybe – and they’ll – they’ll kill it-“

“I mean, maybe it should die,” said Becky evenly, and the others agreed, starting to discuss the dangers and sins of the basilisk.

Chiân got to her feet. “No. We’re not killing it. I’ve sorted everything out.” She held up the pod. “It can be captured in this and then held in the Chamber of Secrets, where it will be safe from everyone and everyone will be safe from it.” They all looked at her, and Chiân heard the authority of her voice ring through the room. She felt strange and small in its wake, aware that her friends had just shown incredible faith by sticking by her side and here she was overriding them.

“I need you guys,” she said in a quiet voice. “I… yeah, I’m asking for help, but we’re doing it my way. We’re not killing the snake. That’s final.”

It was a slightly tense moment. “Fine by me,” said Theo at last. “It is, after all, your party.” He gave her an admiring smile that Chiân was certain she did not deserve.

“Grand. Well then, shall we go tunnel into the labyrinth?” said Ozzy, rising from his desk as if to head there right away.

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ there big boy,” said Becky, reaching out in exactly the same motion as Theo to grab hold of him. The others made noises of alarm as well.

Chiân shook her head at him. “You’re not coming in with me – none of you-“

“Oh, for god’s sake, Chiân, we-“ started Pretoria.

“Look, I can talk to the snake. I can control it. It… it listens to me. Because I know its language, it… obeys me,” said Chiân, slightly uncomfortable with the word. “The rest of you would die trying. That’s not me being dramatic, that’s true.”

The ensuing argument was predictable, but it had morphed into a plan before too long. Vessy and Lydia were insisting on not being left out this time, but acquiesced into roles that did not involve entering the labyrinth. Pretoria and Sam were the two who were going to come into the tunnels with Chiân, because she knew she would have to stun them to stop them coming.

Asher was the hardest to dissuade from being part of the underground party, but then Chiân had an idea.

“Hang on – Oz, shut up for a second – Asher, do you have a phone?” she asked, thinking.

“What?” he blinked at her, distracted from his argument with Becky and Theo. “Yeah, but it’s not gonna work here, is it?”

“Well, not in the normal way, no. Do any of the rest of you have phones, like in your dorms?”

Theo and Becky did, as did Lydia, to Chiân’s surprise.

“Okay, well. We’re gonna need a way to communicate that’s faster than writing stuff on parchment.”

“But you can’t use-“ started Becky.

“Can you guys go get them? Like, right now? Trust me, please,” said Chiân, and they got up and left the classroom, leaving Chiân with Vessy, Ozzy, Pretoria, and Sam.

“What are you going to try, Firebug?” asked Ozzy.

“I think there might be a way to pair the phones so that you can use them to hear what’s going on at the other end – like what you did with the parchment, Sam, except duplicating the audible instead of what you write on it… or something.” Chiân was pacing.

“Sick,” said Oz, and the room fell quiet.

After a minute she looked up at Pretoria and Sam. “Why are you guys friends with me?” she asked.

“Because you’re good,” said Sam, without hesitation. “Not like ‘obedient’, or just trying to fit in, but like, actually good. That’s in short supply in the world, let alone in Slytherin house.”

Chiân was dumbfounded. Months and months ago she recalled a conversation with Asher, snug in a bookshop café in central London, where he had said pretty much the same thing.

Ozzy spoke. “She’s right, Firebug. Hey, I’m in Gryffindor and you’re more genuine than most of my house.”

“Genuine and good aren’t the same thing,” Chiân said, instead of trying to process what Sam had said. “You know, Becky told me a while back that I was basically not a Slytherin in ‘any of the ways that matter’-“

Sam and Pretoria both started to protest, but Chiân spoke over them. “No, I know. It’s bullshit. She meant it as a good thing, but that’s the problem, I think. Slytherin isn’t ‘bad’, it just has more to make up for.”

“Yes,” said Sam emphatically, smacking a fist into her other hand. “Yes, exactly.”

“Thanks, guys.” Chiân glanced at Vessy, who unlike the others was sat on a chair, her hands clasped beneath the desk. She looked very small. “I guess... I think one of the reasons I want to save the basilisk is because… well, because of you guys.”

“What do you mean?” said Pretoria.

Chiân was watching Vessy as she answered. She had never told her this before. “Because you guys didn’t hate me when you found out I killed my brother. I know it wasn’t my fault or whatever, that I was four, but you stayed my friends. And I didn’t really have a choice but to trust you at that moment, but… Vess, I should’ve told you that last year. You and Lydia. I’m sorry. I think I just assumed that if you actually knew what was in that memory then you’d just… ditch me. Think I was a monster.”

Vessy’s eyes were wide. “You… you killed your brother?”

Chiân nodded, her throat closing up again. “When I was four. I didn’t… it was an accident. And I should’ve worked this out earlier. I mean, none of these guys,” she gestured at the older students in the room and beyond, “treated me like a pariah, so maybe I wasn’t a monster, and maybe you’d still want to be friends with me even if you knew.” Chiân had stopped pacing.

Vessy stumbled to her feet and ran to Chiân, grabbing her into a hug, her face shining with tears. They hugged hard for a moment, then broke apart as Asher came back into the classroom, followed by the others.

Vessy wiped her eyes, laughing nervously as she stepped away. “What’s a pariah?” she said, sniffling. Chiân laughed, also wiping her eyes.

“Like how everyone treats the Slytherins in general,” explained Pretoria helpfully. “Right, we’ve got phones. Firebug, do your thing.”

Chiân frowned down at the phones, all slightly dusty and unused from their Hogwarts life at the bottom of trunks and bags. It took her a few minutes to pull together the right magic, embedding it in the plastic and silicone blocks, which buzzed and glowed strangely as she worked. She felt slightly smug as she finished up – she was getting good at this whole magic thing, she thought.

“Right. Becky, stand outside for a sec?” said Chiân, handing back her phone. They tested the phones, which now effectively worked as walkie talkies, though admittedly with no ‘off’ setting. Anything they spoke directly up against one of them rang back out of the others. Becky cheered with them from outside the classroom.

“This is so weird,” said Asher, frowning down at his. “Can you put them back to normal when, y’know, you’ve done your whole Ash Ketchum bit?”

“Your what?” said Ozzy.

“Uh, yes,” said Chiân to Asher. “And if not I promise I will buy you all new phones.”

“Deal,” said Theo.

Pretoria and also Becky insisted that they do nothing until they had eaten lunch, which was starting imminently in the Great Hall. Chiân thought about resisting. The idea of leaving their plan until even closer to the start of the task was causing a nasty panic in her gut, but then she remembered the fatigue and awfulness of her twenty-seven hours beneath the school, and agreed.

They all sat together again at the Slytherin table, though the mood was very different. Perhaps everyone else in the hall sensed the intensity looming over them, because nobody tried to join them.

At one thirty the tables cleared, and they looked at each other.

“Let’s go,” said Chiân, standing up from the table. She felt more nervous and more determined right now than she had before any of her exams, and she heard Pretoria mutter some similar sentiment to Sam.

In the entrance hall Chiân, Pretoria and Sam bid goodbye to the others. Asher, Vessy and Lydia hugged Chiân before leaving to their respective posts.

“Ready to cause some drama?” Chiân said to Vessy, who beamed.

“Honestly, I’m so excited,” she said, giving her a wink that was alive with fire.

“Do you think she’s gonna be convincing enough?” asked Pretoria as the three of them walked out of the castle, heading towards the forest.

“Oh, she was born to do this. I’m actually kinda bummed that I’m not gonna get to see it,” said Chiân, utterly confident in her friend.

Vessy, Lydia, and Asher were on decoy duty. Out by the lake, far from any teachers or watching eyes, Lydia was going to be stunned by Asher. Vessy, who had been out looking for her friend, would run screaming back to the castle, sobbing with what Chiân could already imagine would be hysterical abandon, screaming that another student had been petrified and that she _swore_ on her _heart_ that she had seen a gigantic snake slithering from the scene of the crime.

This hopefully would draw the Bruchs and other associated staff far from the site of the task, and would keep them occupied until they found Lydia and realised that she had in fact just been stunned. Asher would by this point have already joined the other Gryffindors, who – until they were on report duty – would be trying to track down the other champions and convince them that there was a small chance they should possibly not go ahead with the task.

Several of them had suggested initially that they go straight to the staff, but Pretoria had pointed out that this would mean admitting several things, such as knowing quite a bit about a basilisk who all the staff thought was dead, and would probably result in at least Chiân’s expulsion. Chiân was self-sacrificial at the best of times, but had not been too keen on this idea. And then Theo had pointed out that they would almost certainly call off the task, and all of them, if possible, wanted the task to go ahead.

Maybe that had been a selfish decision, thought Chiân as she, Sam, and Pretoria ducked into the forest. But the best case scenario was that they got into the labyrinth, found the sleeping snake, caught it, and were out again long before the task was due to start.

The three of them sat in silence, a little way off the entrance to the underground labyrinth. There were ministry officials coming and going, talking and occasionally gesturing in a way which gave a tangible impression of last minute checks.

“You okay, kid?” asked Pretoria quietly as they waited.

Chiân had been sat with her eyes closed, searching for the basilisk out there somewhere, enclosed in the earth. “Uh, yeah, just… yeah, it’s still there.” She opened her eyes, satisfied.

Sam was watching her. When Chiân met her gaze she said “we’re gonna miss you, Chiân.”

“Yeah, right back at you,” Chiân whispered.

It was nearly twenty minutes before a voice from Sam’s pocket called their names. She pulled out the phone. It was Asher.

“-‘s been stunned and Vessy’s gone – about ten minutes ago – guys where are you? I’m back at the castle now.”

Becky’s voice cut him off, telling him to come out to where the Durmstrang students were staying, out in a large, luxurious marquee in the grounds. They must be trying to find Lilike first.

“Okay, headed your way now. Uh, Chiân?”

“Here,” said Sam quietly into the phone, eyes fixed on the handful of people in the clearing ahead of them. It included the implacable Mr Bruch, who was simply standing, stock-still, before the entrance to the labyrinth.

“Any minute now Vessy’s gonna make enough of a noise for you. Let us know when it’s worked.”

“Sure thing… Um, when- never mind,” said Sam, lowering the phone.

A huge silvery something that looked like a giant ghostly mouse had blown through the trees, stopping in the clearing and speaking with the voice of Professor Petrarch. “We have a possible green situation as well as a possible petrifying. Mr Bruch, please meet Professor Wexel and myself at the eastern shore of the lake as soon as possible. Back up may be advisable – it’s unclear how much of this is hysteria, but the student does seem to have received a genuine and powerful fright. Come immediately,” and the creature dissolved.

The three girls exchanged grins. Chiân was beaming at the thought of Vessy giving the performance her absolute all. The wizards and witches were shouting to each other, and Mr Bruch strode off at once, commanding two of them to stay and guard the entrance.

Pretoria raised her wand, pointing at the guards, but Sam pulled her back, raising the phone again.

“Guys,” she said, very softly in the newly tense quiet of the forest. “Are any of you near the labyrinth? We’ve got two more tournament staff to get past.”

“On it!” called Ozzy through the phone.

“We should disillusion,” said Sam, turning to them in anticipation. Chiân, who was so familiar with the spell by now that she didn’t need to pull out her wand, immediately rapped lightly onto Sam and then Pretoria’s shoulders, then did herself. “Nice,” said Sam as the three of them blended out of sight and into the mossy forest floor.

Barely a minute later they heard the unmistakeable sound of Ozzy, yelling something incomprehensible. The two wizards looked at each other, stepping further away from the archway to peer through the trees.

“SOMEBODY HELP! ANYBODY?” shrieked the voice, and the two wizards hurried further forwards. Sam grabbed Chiân and the three of them, barely visible, ran quickly and quietly behind the staff as Ozzy’s voice screamed “SOMEONE’S BEEN EATEN BY A FUCKING BASILISK UP AT THE SCHOOL! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

They could hear the wizards barely ten yards away, exasperatedly reassuring him that their colleagues were on the case, and that nobody was dead. The three of them slipped across the clearing and through the archway, into the blackness beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-eighteen-pokemon-green-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	19. Cabaret Knossos

“That boy is something special,” chuckled Sam. She spoke normally, and Chiân could see why. The second they had crossed through the archway the woods behind them, the light, the sound, everything, had vanished completely.

Chiân undid their disillusionment charms and drew a ball of fire in her hand. She raised it above her head, letting it go so that it floated to the top of the passage they were in.

“Holy dragonballs,” breathed Pretoria, and Chiân had to agree. Beyond them in every direction were tunnels, earthy and dark, sloping steeply down into the earth.

“Guys, we’re in. Tell Ozzy thanks,” Sam said into the phone. They heard a crackled response, but could not make out the answer.

“Must be loads of enchantments around this place to stop the champions cheating or something,” said Pretoria. “That’s not ideal.”

“Ugh, never mind,” said Sam putting it back in her pocket. “Can you feel where it is?” she asked Chiân.

She had shut her eyes, searching with that mental reach that Baba Buku had shown her. She could feel the basilisk, its dormant mind thick with dormant magic of that peculiar serpentine kind. It was sleeping, curled into some distant part of the labyrinth. Chiân, remembering what the Durmstrang boy had said about an ‘actual live Minotaur’, mentally scanned the area around them, trying to discern if there was anything else with them below the earth that was living. The place was thick with enchantments, but she could not sense anything else living.

“I can feel it, but… I’m not sure which way,” she said slowly, opening her eyes. Pretoria’s antlers were casting geometric shadows across the earth walls.

“Well, we may as well go this way then,” said Sam, pointing to their left.

“Are you sure it’s sleeping?” asked Pretoria. “I’m not massively up for dying today, just want to put that out there.”

Chiân lit her wandtip, just like she had in the significantly less palatable tunnels beneath the castle. “Yes, I’m certain. And it’ll listen to me if I tell it to like, shut its eyes or whatever.”

“Or not eat us. Good to know,” said Pretoria. “Well, after you, Firebug.”

The two older girls smiled at her as she set off down the tunnel, trailing a lingering light behind her. She knew that the other two were thinking the same thing: it was over a year ago now that they had followed her in much the same way through an unknown darkened passage, trusting her to lead the way, the light in her hands guiding them all.

Chiân was concentrating, feeling for the basilisk, making right-hand turns down twisting, identical tunnels, trying to hone in on the snake. Sam and Pretoria walked just behind her, quiet, attentive, their wands lit.

They walked and walked for what seemed like ages, though Chiân knew it was only about twenty minutes. They had so far not crossed their own trail of light, but then-

“Wait,” said Sam, her voice serious. The others stopped and turned to her. She was looking back the way they had come, the unscarred part of her face illuminated by Chiân’s floating ball of light.

“Oh shit,” said Pretoria, and Chiân noticed it too. The light trail behind them only extended about four feet, and then all was blackness.

“What?” said Chiân, disbelieving that her magic might have failed. Wand still burning a trail, she walked back to the point where it stopped, examining it. She heard Pretoria yell, but it was cut off with horrible abruptness. The line was completely visible now, though, and Chiân turned to tell them that she could see the rest, but the tunnel ahead of her was empty and dark.

As soon as she ran back towards where they had been just a second ago they reappeared.

“Oh my god you vanished,” said Sam, trying to calm herself as much as her girlfriend as they both hugged her.

“I think it’s some kind of… seam… I don’t know,” said Chiân. “Look, if I stand here, you can see me, but as soon as I cross here-“ and they vanished again.

Somehow there was an interruption in the continuity of space, right there in the tunnel. They eventually decided to keep going, and Chiân marked either side of the strange anomaly with a burning ‘x’. After only a few minutes further into their resumed walk however, Chiân stopped, confused.

“You okay?” asked Pretoria.

“It’s moved,” said Chiân. “The basilisk.”

The girls looked alarmed. “What, it’s awake?” said Sam.

“No…” said Chiân, who was listening hard. “It was over in this direction just a moment ago, but now it’s behind us. A long way behind us. Over there,” Chiân turned and pointed back the way they had come, somewhere beyond what ought to have been the right hand side of the Labyrinth.

“But if it’s not awake then how?” said Pretoria.

“I don’t know, but it’s definitely still sleeping. It’s deeply asleep. Like it’s hibernating. But it’s moved,” Chiân repeated, bewildered.

“Or we did,” said Sam. Something had occurred to her.

“What you thinking, babe?”

“What if that weird spot was like, some kind of portal and we came out in a totally different part of the labyrinth?”

They all looked at each other. This theory made a great deal of sense, but was also very, very bad news.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Pretoria, leaning against the wall of the tunnel.

“D’you think we should go back and try to avoid crossing any more bits like that?” asked Chiân, thinking that maybe they might be able to somehow work out a path through the labyrinth that remained reasonably direct.

They tried it, following the glowing light back through the turns they had made until they were back at the cross Chiân had marked there.

To Chiân’s increasing horror, however, they stepped back through the tunnel only to find that there was no light there, and no cross.

“We must have come out somewhere completely different,” said Sam, the same dismay in her voice that they were all feeling.

“Oh god, you mean they change?” said Pretoria. “Chiân, check where the snake is now.”

Chiân cast around for it, and sure enough it was again in a different direction, though much closer to them now. “That way,” she pointed.

“Right, well, mark this spot and I vote we just keep going. We’ll find the damn thing, don’t worry,” said Sam, sounding convincingly optimistic. Chiân drew a circle this time and they pressed onwards, Chiân guiding them.

After nearly an hour, and two more strange portal-like shifts which completely reset where they were in relation to the snake, Chiân was starting to panic. Sam and Pretoria were reassuring her, but she knew that they, too, were feeling tense. They had only hours to crack this before the task itself started, and who knew how far ahead the tournament staff would release the Minotaur into the labyrinth? The phone was not working at all, clearly cut off by whatever enchantments were laid over the tunnels, so they could not contact anyone.

Chiân knew as well that the only reason neither of them had suggested they abandon this and get the hell out of dodge was because they had as much hope in finding the exit now as they did the basilisk.

Chiân realised she was grinding her teeth and tried to consciously unclench her jaw. She did not manage. After at least another forty minutes of unabated dread and silence, Pretoria pointed to something.

“Look,” she said, and they all looked down a turn off to their left. A thin, glowing line was crossing their vision, far up the tunnel.

“I wonder how long ago that was,” Sam said. None of them answered.

“This isn’t working,” said Chiân. She turned and looked at the other two. “We’re stuck down here and we don’t have a hope in hell. We’re gonna end up dying of thirst as much as anything, and honestly I’ll take expulsion over that. Can you guys do those talking patronuses? They might at least be able to get us out of here, or bring help or something.”

“Or even better!” said Pretoria excitedly. “Sam, why didn’t we think of that? We literally had to learn the patronus charm for our Defence NEWT – they might be able to guide us.”

“Mm, maybe,” said Sam shrewdly, eyeing her girlfriend with an impressed look. “Okay, well, it’s worth a shot. Do you want to? Or should I?”

“You’ve got a stronger patronus than me, you do it,” said Pretoria.

“What do you mean by ‘guiding’?” asked Chiân. “I thought they just fought off dementors?”

“Yeah, but you can also use them to avoid enchantments and things. It’s a bit more complicated to control but we’ve spent a good deal of the last three months practising,” said Pretoria.

“Okay, stand back,” said Sam, moving past the other two to face the dark tunnel ahead.

Chiân watched her stand there, lit from the back by their floating light. Sam squared her shoulders after a moment, and raised her wand.

Her voice was loud and sure as she cried “ _expecto patronum”_ and with a noise like fire the tunnel was filled with silver light. Chiân shielded her eyes initially from the powerful glow, then looked to see Sam greeting a lizard-like creature that was shrouded in silver fire.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping forwards cautiously. It was very beautiful.

“It’s a salamander,” said Sam fondly, straightening up. “Pretoria’s is a swan,” she added, smiling at her girlfriend.

The salamander scampered ahead of them, guiding them through the tunnels, stopping to test with its tongue whether the way was interrupted by a portal. Chiân let the ball of light dissipate, but all three of them agreed that Chiân should keep drawing the line along with them, seeing as they weren’t entirely sure how helpful the patronus would be.

Its light and liveliness were definitely comforting, though, and they walked with new resolve.

Watching it ahead of them, Chiân asked Sam “you have to like, think of something happy to cast a patronus, right? Like it’s made up of hope and joy and stuff?” She had done a fair amount of reading about this spell for her extra essay for Professor Faustus.

“Yep,” she said, smiling with half her face and all of her voice.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you think about to cast it?”

“Pret,” she said simply.

The patronus did seem to be helping a little. They had been heading in a steady trajectory towards the snake for a good while longer than they had managed before, and the salamander made the tunnels light and easy to navigate.

But then, out of nowhere, a deep rumbling noise rang through the tunnels. Pretoria gave a yelp as the walls around them seemed to tremble. Sam’s salamander vanished and the three of them were left blinking in the solitary, comparatively weak light of Chiân’s wand.

“What the fuck was that,” whispered Pretoria into the silence.

Chiân, heart thumping, shut her eyes and felt for the snake, somewhere ahead of them, nightmarishly unattainable. Then she cast further afield. “Oh god,” she said.

“What?” demanded both seventh years.

“They’ve released the minotaur,“ she whispered. She could feel another powerfully magical creature, alert and writhing with bloodlust, arriving out of nowhere somewhere deep in the labyrinth.

Pretoria swore and Sam said quickly. “Where? If you can pinpoint it we could use that to find the exit.”

Chiân shook her head. “I don’t think it works like that. I think it was already in here and they woke it up… like it was frozen, which was why I couldn’t sense it before… hang on, I can feel it…” Chiân listened, hard. The creature was massive, with a mind almost as complex as that of the basilisk. It was confused and hungry, wondering why it had not awoken in its cave deep in the mountains.

Chiân felt adrenaline coursing through her. And then, as she tried to calm herself, she felt another stirring, another mind shaking off its sleep, and calling to her.

“Oh boy,” she said, her voice sounding half insane. “The basilisk has woken up.”

“Shit,” said Pretoria. “Shit.”

“How close do you think we are to the task starting?” said Sam, her voice decidedly and almost aggressively calm.

“ _Shit_ ,” said Pretoria again.

“I have no idea, but-“ Chiân jumped as a muffled voice interrupted her. She and Sam stared at each other for a moment, then Sam fumbled in her pockets for the phone.

“Oh my god, I bet the enchantment that was keeping the minotaur down was also freezing the charm in the phones,” said Chiân.

Sam raised it to her mouth, frantically. “Guys, guys, can you hear us?”

There was a horrible moment of silence, and then several shrieks, clear and close as day.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-“ Lydia’s voice was yelling.

“Are you out? Are you okay? Where are you?” Becky was shouting.

“We’re okay,” Sam called back, and Chiân thought she could hear Vessy telling Lydia to shut up. “We’re okay, but, ahh, well, they don’t call it a labyrinth for nothing.”

There was a pause.

“You’re still inside?” Becky sounded appalled.

Theo’s voice cut in. “Guys, the task is literally about to start.”

“What?” shrieked Chiân.

“It’s nearly seven,” said Becky. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

The three girls looked at each other, horror running through them like water through a broken damn.

“You need to get out of there,” shrieked either Vessy or Lydia, but Becky was talking again, urgent and quick.

“Okay, I don’t think you have many options, but if you want we can try to delay the task?”

Chiân reached out for the phone and Sam handed it to her. “Becky, it’s Chiân. How did trying to warn the champions go? Do they know what they’re heading into down here?”

“Er… it went really badly, to be honest. We tried to tell Lilike and Aceline but they reckoned we were fucking with them to try to sabotage the tournament.”

Pretoria swore.

“And Xerxes?” Chiân asked.

“We couldn’t get to him. We tried everything we could think of, but the Hufflepuffs kind of hate us, because, well,”

“Because you’re friends with us,” said Pretoria loudly.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

The three girls in the tunnels stared at each other. Chiân was thinking furiously, and could see the other two mirroring the expression that must also be on her face.

Asher’s voice came through the phone. It sounded like he was at a football game. “You’ve got five minutes. Everyone’s in the stands already.”

“We’re not,” said Becky. “We’ve been waiting at the castle for you. Guys, what do we do?”

“Okay,” said Chiân, hoping against hope that something good was about to come out of her mouth. “Okay, I think at this point us three are in deep shit and there’s nothing we can do about that.” She looked up at Sam and Pretoria. “If you two get expelled then at least you’ve basically got your education, so let’s just try not to die, right?”

“Right,” they said, nodding to her.

“Didn’t that Durmstrang guy this morning say that everyone would be able to watch the task?”

“Yeah, the whole quidditch pitch is basically a massive screen. Me, Vess, and Lydia are looking at it right now,” said Asher, and Chiân thought she could hear Roy’s magically magnified voice through the spell that connected the phones.

“Does that mean you can see into the labyrinth, then?” she asked, seeing Sam and Pretoria nod in understanding.

“Uhh,” began Asher, and then Vessy’s voice joined.

“We’ll be able to as soon as it starts, which is literally any second now. We’re gonna have like a bird’s eye view.”

“The champions are all at the entrance right now, which is what we can see below us,” said Lydia’s voice, a little further away.

“Okay,” said Chiân, the barest semblance of a plan forming in her head. “Okay, this isn’t going to be pretty, because as soon as you can see us that means everyone can see us, but it also means you might be able to guide us out of here, right?”

“Maybe,” said Asher.

“They might only show where the champions are at,” said Becky, and it sounded like she was running. “Hang on, we’re coming up to the stands. Asher, where are you guys?”

While they co-ordinated, their voices clattering through the phone, Chiân looked from Sam to Pretoria and back again.

“Guys, I’m so sorry-“

“Save it, Firebug,” said Pretoria.

“It’s okay, Chiân,” said Sam. “As soon as they realise we’re in here they’ll probably call off the-“

She was drowned out by a furious and feral roar that sounded like an enraged bull.

Chiân gasped and Pretoria grabbed her, pulling her along as she and Sam broke into a run.

In all the confusion Chiân had lost track of the creatures in the labyrinth with them. The Minotaur was a hunter. It could smell them a thousand times more effectively than Chiân could listen for it, and while she had been worrying and talking it had stalked them through the tunnels.

Blind in the pitch blackness of the tunnels, Chiân ran. The phone was clenched in her hand, still making noise, her wand in her other hand. Pretoria was gripping the back of her shirt with a tight fist, running with her, and Chiân could hear Sam on her other side.

An unmistakeable smell of animal sweat and spit was following them down the tunnel, as well as the occasional snarl of something huge. After a minute of flat-out sprinting the smell seemed to die away.

“Stop,” panted Chiân, “guys, stop.”

“Where is it?” hissed Pretoria while Sam hunched over beside her, gasping.

Chiân listened, hard. “It’s a long way away. I think we just crossed one of those portal things.”

“But they don’t always change – immediately-“ gasped Sam.

“Yeah, well maybe we got lucky,” said Chiân, listening furiously with every sense. “Yeah, it’s miles away.”

“Oh thank god,” Pretoria wheezed, leaning her hands on her knees.

Chiân lifted the phone, which was buzzing with shouts.

“We can see you! They’ve just let the champions into the labyrinth and we can see the whole map-“ Asher was yelling to them.

At the same time they could make out Becky’s voice, also shouting. “-complete pandemonium. I don’t think they can get the champions out again, but they’ve spotted you, so-“

Chiân shouted for them to stop talking and listen, but it didn’t seem like they could hear her over the roar of the stadium. She looked helplessly up at her friends.

Becky’s voice continued: “-all running towards the forest. I think they’re going to come help – oh god I can see the snake! I can see the basilisk!” Becky was screaming this, and Chiân could tell that it was futile trying to get her attention.

This was it. The entire school was watching them. There were two monsters and six human beings in this labyrinth, and Chiân was happy to shout down anybody who even thought about saying it wasn’t her fault.

The three of them stood there for a second, listening to the yells and chaos coming out of the phone. Sam and Pretoria were gripping each other’s hands.

Chiân thought of Tian, and then of her parents, and then of Sam earlier that day, telling her that she was good, and Asher and Maddie in the bookshop café, and Vessy and Lydia.

With a slight gesture of magic Chiân silenced the phone. The other two looked at her.

“Do you trust me?” she asked them, and her voice was strong with the kind of calm that only came in moments of absolute crisis.

They both nodded, and Chiân handed the phone back to Sam.

“I’m gonna try calling the snake to me. It will be able to find us a damn sight better than we can find it.”

For the first time since Chiân had known them, both Pretoria and Sam looked truly terrified.

“I promise you it will not attack you. It won’t do anything unless I tell it to, but even so when it gets near us you should shut your eyes. Okay?”

“Chiân,” whispered Sam. After the violent noise from the phone and the roaring of the Minotaur the silence around them was eerie and ringing. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” said Chiân. “Absolutely certain. And you know what you should do,” she added, the thought suddenly occurring to her. “You should cast patronuses to go find the other champions. Warn them that there’s a basilisk in here, and I guess that we’re in here as well. I’m guessing they know about the Minotaur.”

They agreed that this was a good shout, and they stood, still hand-in-hand, wands pointing down opposite ends of the tunnel. Chiân moved out of the way, and watched them each cast powerful, shining patronuses. Sam’s salamander burst from her wand and leapt around to face her. From Pretoria’s wand erupted a swan, purest white and painfully bright to look at.

“We need you to go find the other champions,” Sam was saying clearly to her salamander, and Pretoria copied her, speaking to the vast swan. Chiân thought they did a reasonable job summing up the situation, though it struck her all over again how deeply absurd and nightmarish this all was.

The two silvery figures bounded off in separate directions after their quarry, Sam’s seeking both Xerxes and Aceline, and Pretoria’s swan sent in search of Lilike.

“Okay,” said Chiân, who was steeling herself. “Okay, I’m gonna guide the basilisk towards us. I’m gonna need you guys to guard me and watch out for the Minotaur.”

“Okay,” said Sam. “But Chiân what if finds us? Do we like, wake you up or just shout, or what?”

“Pick you up and run?” suggested Pretoria.

“No, I think I should be able to run with you, and hear you. If I can’t then shake me – I know I’ll be able to feel it, and I’ll come back into my own head.”

“This is insane,” said Pretoria, but Chiân knew she wasn’t protesting the plan.

Both of them had drawn their wands in this arbitrary stretch of dark tunnel, and Chiân extinguished her wandtip, tucking it into her robes. She thought briefly of the entire school sat in the quidditch stands watching them now. Insane did not even begin to cover it, she thought.

“Ready?” she called to the girls, more for her own sake than theirs.

“Ready,” they replied, and Chiân closed her eyes.

And she moved.

She could feel the cool, still air of the tunnel on her face but she stepped out of herself, reaching for the enormous snake who was moving somewhere in the earth beyond them.

Chiân drew up the serpentine magic in her head, calling to the basilisk.

“ _Master,”_ it replied.

Chiân’s chest tightened with the effort and concentration. She greeted it, meeting it in the darkness. _“I have come to take you home,”_ she said, and she felt the hiss of the parseltongue come out of her physical mouth even as is echoed through her mind to the basilisk.

It gave a jubilant hiss in reply, searching for her in the darkness.

“ _I need you to let me see where you are – I need to use your eyes,”_ Chiân asked it, and felt it submit to her request, docile and willing as she pushed further into its mind.

The creature could see through the tunnels much more clearly than her human eyes had been able to. She could feel that it wanted to find her, that it was tasting the air with almost sycophantic eagerness, and she thought again how much more than a snake this creature was, and just how layered it was in ancient magic. It was built to be ruled in a way that no creature of this size and power could ever naturally be.

Chiân moved through the tunnels in the eyes of the basilisk, breathing with it in massive, slow, hissing motions as they turned and flowed through the warm, dark earth. She commanded the snake to turn away from anything it saw which might move, which might be alive, and it obeyed, though they did not encounter any of the champions. Chiân hoped desperately that the girls’ patronuses had convinced them to hide – or maybe the tournament staff and teachers had already evacuated them from the passages.

And then she saw a thin streak of light up ahead of the snake. She felt its curiosity as it approached the golden line, suspended in the air.

“ _It is me,”_ said Chiân, confirming the snake’s speculative thought. “ _Follow it to me, now,”_ she ordered.

The snake moved forwards, its belly sliding through the earth in an impossibly long, terrible chain of smooth scales. The snake felt confusion. Ahead of it the light stopped. It ended in a bright, hovering circle. Chiân felt herself catch her breath, hoping that this fairly recent portal had not yet moved.

She urged the basilisk onwards, encouraging it to cross the passage and continue to follow the line, excitement making her heart jump when the glowing line continued through the other side. It was moving much faster than Chiân and the others had, and she knew it was a matter of minutes before it reached them.

In her head she imagined once more what this would look like to watch from a bird’s eye view. She pictured the massive body of the basilisk, moving through the strange portals of the maze, half its body disappearing into one tunnel and simultaneously pouring out of the air somewhere else.

With a jolt Chiân remembered an old game she used to play on her dad’s phone, trying to navigate the little pixelated figure around a screen without letting it collide into itself. Here she was, deep underground, playing the world’s most high-stakes game of snake. For a mad second Chiân had to fight the desire to giggle.

And then she heard yelling, loud and urgent, and her connection with the basilisk was nearly broken in the panic. Pretoria and Sam were screaming for her, and Chiân did not need them to tell her why. She could smell the Minotaur, the animal smell thick beneath what Chiân could smell through the basilisk.

It must have burst from a portal nearby to have arrived so suddenly, and Chiân cursed herself for not thinking of this. She fought to remain in the snake’s head even as Pretoria and Sam grabbed each of her hands. Concentrating harder than she had ever done in her life, she began to run with them.

Chiân could feel that the basilisk had picked up on her panic and it pressed forwards with a sense of urgency, tasting the air for her scent. Chiân could feel her body, could just about make her legs work, could barely hear the girls on either side of her shooting spells behind them at the roaring sound that was ringing through her human ears.

Chiân’s eyes were stretched wide instinctually, trying to make her less blind as she fled, but she overrode them, seeing only through the eyes of the basilisk, which was powering along beside a line of light.

And then she could hear the roaring of the Minotaur in a strange double echo, through both human and basilisk ears. The snake hissed in triumph and careened down a passage towards the noise, and towards the three of them.

Chiân fought to find her mouth, watching the tunnel around the snake fly past.

“IT’S HERE!” she screamed to Sam and Pretoria, whom she could not see, but could feel in either hand. She pulled on them, forcing them to stop, to listen to her. “SHUT YOUR EYES! SHUT YOUR EYES RIGHT NOW-“

She heard Sam screaming, Pretoria still yelling curses, could feel and hear the Minotaur bearing down on them from behind, still locked into the eyes of the basilisk.

And then-

Chiân saw herself. The two girls on either side of her body were cowering, arms over their heads, faces hidden. Behind the three figures was the monstrous head of a bull, set on the shoulders of a beast that walked upright. It had stopped in its tracks, towering above the only girl left standing, then slowly falling backwards, crashing into the earth of the tunnel, dead at the look of a basilisk.

And Chiân was staring at herself, her eyes wide open. Shock ricocheted through her as the two minds were severed. She did not know if she was the snake or the girl. She could see both – the wide, terrified eyes of the girl, and the huge, yellow eyes of the serpent, staring from one to the other from both sides, locked in a single, soul-splitting moment.

Pain like Chiân had never experienced – never dreamed of – tore her apart.

She was screaming, though she could not find her mouth. She was falling, though she did not have a body. She was exploding, though her veins ran cold as ice.

There was darkness, there was a sound like fire, there was pain – agony – only agony – desperate, clawing, primal, godless pain.

And a shout, and something grabbing at her, pulling away, a cry, a roar, a confusion, a pull like a magnet, and then-

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-nineteen-cabaret-knossos-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


	20. Firebug Again

The agony was timeless.

It lasted and lasted, making her wish – beg – scream – for death, for relief. It could have been days, or maybe weeks, months, years.

She could feel nothing but unending, unvarying pain. She drifted to the surface, glimpsing faces, or maybe memories of faces, people she cared about, people she knew and loved, and people she couldn’t remember seeing before. And she would drown again, sinking back into the agony, back into the fire that seemed all at once in every iota of her screaming body and also entirely in her head.

The first sense she had of time passing was in the measure of her own screaming. Sometimes she was aware of her lungs, wheezing and bellowing out the pain she was in, her throat ripped raw with the inhuman sounds she made as she burned.

In these moments she became aware of other people, responding to her screams, treating her, touching her, though she could not feel their hands through the nuclear force of the pain.

Then the first droplet of relief – it was stunning, the lessening of the pressure, the very earliest nudge of recovery. It seemed impossible to recall as it slipped away, until, after some unknown age, there was another. And then another.

And now there were stretches of time – gasping, precious, desperate time – when she could think around the pain, when she could try to remember who she was, what she was. Sometimes she thought she was a snake. Those moments were the most peaceful. The animal simplicity of those moments dulled the pain. Other times she remembered human hands and human griefs, complex and articulate, nuanced and terrible. She would lose herself inside the horror of it, nameless, wordless, lying there in the most impossible pain.

But the screaming lessened, and the time passed, and she began to be able to hear things. The moments when she drifted out of the endless pain, before she cried out, she could hear people, words, names.

Her name. Chiân.

She was Chiân. She was human. She was thirteen. She could hear again. She could hear her father’s voice, talking to her softly, though she did not understand the words. She heard the voices of friends – Vessy, Lydia, Asher, older voices, voices that brought faces to her mind.

Memories swam up with her now, and she could match them to the faces she saw around her, wavering just at the edge of comprehension.

And sleep returned, blissful and deep, though never as long as she yearned for. It was this ultimate relief that finally made Chiân return to herself. The hours-long breaks from the pain made it bearable, and the time asleep broke the endless, timeless depths of semi-conscious agony, so that she could truly awaken.

She was lying in a hospital bed. She stared around her for a long while – maybe several long whiles, because sometimes it was dark, barely lit, warm, and other times it was bright and clean, and the figures who moved around looked less like shadows.

One of Chiân’s slow ascents from sleep was punctuated with whispers, and then a gasp as her eyes came open.

“Chiân! Oh my god, Chiân!” cried a voice – or maybe several voices.

Chiân turned her head. There was a beautiful girl, her face familiar and streaked with tears, which also seemed familiar. She had long, silvery-blonde hair, and thin hands which were raised to her mouth as she cried. Beside her was another face, framed by slightly messy strawberry-blonde hair held up in a bun, eyes wide and dark, face pale and worried.

She knew them, and she knew she loved them. She wanted to tell them this, but by the time she thought she had found the words she realised that they were gone.

They had been replaced by a man, slumped in a chair as if asleep. His was also a face she knew and loved.

“Dad,” she mouthed, then wondered vaguely why her voice had not made any noise. She tried again. “Dad,” she said, putting as much effort as she could into the word, and was rewarded by an audible croak.

He sat up quickly, eyes widening as he looked down at her. “Hey! Hey, Chiâny, hello. Oh god, it’s good to see you. Hey there,” his eyes filled with tears, and Chiân felt a strange pressure somewhere in her body. It was a hand, she thought, though it seemed to be too many hands – like a hand around a hand, two hands.

The thought was confusing, and she lost sight of her father, only realising a while later that he was gone and the room was now dark.

Figures in white outfits with some kind of symbol on them would appear from time to time, waving wands over her, murmuring, lifting her head so that one of them could pour liquid down her throat. This helped as well. Sometimes the liquid was a thick, bitter-tasting potion which made her throat burn, sometimes it was water, cool and restorative, but both helped her to remember that she had a body, and helped her find a sense of self.

She woke again and her dad was back, with a woman who was crying quietly into him. Chiân thought she knew her, but was lost again in the exhaustion and the pain, which was now a dull, aching constant all along her body.

More potion, more pain, more sleep. There was a conversation happening around her, and she recognised the voices. Then another, then a different one. The sounds of crying. Still more potion, water, the healing staff, the spellwork, and sleep, and then the rising.

“Dad,” she said again, gazing at him. He smiled at her, looking so sad. Chiân felt like she was thinking clearly for the first time in an impossibly long time.

“Hey baby, hey. How you feeling?” said her dad, his tone gentle.

Chiân wanted to reach for him, and searched with incredible grogginess for the right way to access her arms.

“You want something? What do you need? Water? Do you need water, Chiâny?” fretted her dad, noticing the vague attempt at movement she had made.

“No…” she wheezed. “Dad.”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Dad,” she said, relieved when he took her hand. She focused all her strength into squeezing his hand, trying to put into it the words she couldn’t find yet. She drifted away again to the sound of him crying.

She felt much better when she woke the next day, each long sleep bringing substantial improvement in alertness and an amazing lessening of the pain. She could hear voices approaching.

“… just over here. She’s been showing more signs of alertness in the past week, even managing a few words, though she’s never conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Here we are,” the unfamiliar voice stopped nearby. “If you need anything just call.”

“Thank you,” said a voice that Chiân knew. A face came to mind, and this time it came with a name: Becky.

“God,” said another voice. Theo. “She looks awful.”

“At least she’s alive,” murmured Becky. “Did Asher tell you? They think her soul itself has been damaged.”

“No?”

“Yeah. Like it partially killed her – destroyed part of her soul,” said Becky, and she sounded so sad.

“What does that actually, like, mean for her?” asked Theo.

“I don’t know,” said Becky. “Poor kid.”

Chiân was wondering how to speak, how to answer them, when she drifted away once more. The next time she awoke she was in a darkened ward. She found that she could turn her head without the pain ripping through her, and she saw that the table by her bed was covered in cards. Eventually she noticed that they were not birthday cards, but sympathy and ‘get well soon’ cards. She wondered for the first time how long it had been.

And then it was light again, and a healer was standing over her, examining her. Chiân felt weird and empty, and incredibly weak.

Chiân cleared her throat so that she could speak. “’Scuse me,” she croaked, pleased that she had made a noise.

The woman jumped and looked up at her face, smiling kindly at her. “Well hello there, Miss Maeroris. How are you feeling today?”

“I… uh, hungry…” said Chiân.

“Well there’s a good sign. Do you think you would be able to eat if I brought you some soup? Let’s see if you can sit up there – ah, very good, very good. Don’t over-exert yourself now, there we go.”

Chiân, with great effort, pulled herself up onto the pillows behind her, panting as she reached a position that was almost upright. The healer disappeared for a moment and then returned with a bowl of tomato soup.

She had to help Chiân sip it from the bowl, supporting her hands with her own, guiding the bowl as Chiân tried to raise it to her lips.

“You father will be here soon,” said the woman. “He’s been here every day, you know.”

“How long… has… have I…” she did not need to finish the question.

“Coming up to five weeks now,” said the nurse.

Chiân had no idea how to process this, so she focused instead on finishing the soup, collapsing back onto the pillows as soon as she was done.

With her daily increase in appetite Chiân found that memories, too, returned. She asked her dad everything she could manage, but he either did not know or else did not seem to be able to answer. Most of the time he would simply sit with her, holding her hand and weeping quietly.

In the last week of July Chiân had another visitor. She was awake and eating some cereal with a spoon, concentrating on lifting it to her mouth, when she heard a shout.

She nearly threw the bowl across the bed in excitement. Asher was bounding towards her, his dad walking along behind him, greeting one of the nurses.

“Oh my god, Chiân, you’re awake!”

“Hey,” said Chiân, giving him a weak but sincere grin. “I’d hug you but I’d probably pass out.”

Asher laughed, slightly hysterically. “Oh my god I can’t believe you’re awake. Last time we were here you were totally comatose.”

“When were you last here?” asked Chiân.

“About a week after it happened,” he said, his face growing serious. “Do you remember anything from it?”

“I remember everything up to the actual moment when the basilisk arrived, yeah,” said Chiân, and it was true. It was a frantic blur of adrenaline and magic, but as the pain had receded from her it had also receded from her memory, uncovering the events that came immediately before that dreadful moment.

“Well of course you don’t remember anything after that – you practically _died_ ,” said Asher, and finally Chiân could ask all the questions and unknowns that had been crowding her for a week now.

Asher told her about the instant when the third task of the triwizard tournament had begun, and how it had been several minutes before everyone had noticed the three figures in one corner of the labyrinth. The tournament staff had run off immediately, and Roy had given a confused commentary to the stands as everyone stared down into the projected, real-time map of the labyrinth below.

“And then people started screaming, because they spotted the basilisk, but by then there was nothing we could do but watch, and like, you were totally still, just at the one edge of the labyrinth, and me and Becky were both yelling to you through the phone but we couldn’t reach you-“

“Oh I’d forgotten that. Yeah, I turned it off, sorry,” said Chiân.

“Yeah, Sam said,” nodded Asher.

“Sam and Pretoria!” shouted Chiân, lurching involuntarily and then wincing. “Are they okay?”

“You don’t know?” Asher’s face fell. “No, no, they’re fine, they’re alive, don’t worry,” he said quickly, seeing the blank terror that wiped through her.

“What’s happened?” she said, her voice coming out as a whisper.

Asher looked at her for a long moment, then looked around for his dad, who had tactfully taken a seat across the ward and was reading a newspaper with moving pictures.

In a quieter voice Asher continued his story. “We saw it all happening, but from like, a distance, obviously. The tournament staff got the other champions out almost immediately, but you guys were much deeper in the maze and they were only just reaching you when the snake, y’know,”

“Almost killed me.”

“Yeah. And like, the Minotaur was killed, which has been a _whole_ thing, by the way – apparently they’re a super endangered species and the ministry was only allowed to import one if they guaranteed that it wasn’t gonna get hurt. All the champions had been told not to kill it, though it’s nearly impossible to kill a Minotaur apparently-“

“Asher. Get back to the story.”

“Right, sorry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Okay well, it was all really fast and nobody seems to know really what happened, but basically three things happened at once when the basilisk reached you. The Minotaur looked at it and was killed like instantly, the staff came round the other end of the tunnel, and the basilisk disappeared. Oh, four things I guess, because you _exploded.”_

“I what now?” asked Chiân, bemused by the awed note in his voice.

“Yeah. You were like, hovering in the air. Literally the entire school was watching. Pretoria and Sam were trying to like, I don’t even know – help you? Grab you? But the ministry lot were yelling and pointing their wands – I guess they made the basilisk disappear, but nobody really knows.”

Chiân tried to ignore the strange twinge of grief at this news. “And Pretoria and Sam?”

Asher huffed as if unsure how to phrase his next words. “Well… the weird screen thing cut out at that point. But me and Vessy and Lydia were with the others, right? So we tried to find them – Sam and Pretoria, I mean. We only found out like two days later that they’d been taken to the ministry of magic for questioning.”

He hesitated, looking at Chiân, who said pointedly “I’m not gonna die if you give me bad news, Ash. It’s far worse not knowing.”

He sighed. “Fair enough. Well, Pretoria confessed to everything. They wanted to know how you three knew the basilisk was in there so she told them she was the one who had faked the snake skeleton in the lake and hidden it in the labyrinth. They arrested her, Chiân.”

“Oh my god,” breathed Chiân. “Oh my god they have to let me explain-“

“No, Chiân, you don’t understand. She’s in Azkaban.”

Chiân stared at him. “What?”

“The wizarding prison, Azkaban.”

Chiân did not understand. Pretoria was in Azkaban?

Asher was still speaking, watching her with a heavy sadness in his face. “She covered for you, told them that she was a parselmouth and had made the snake disappear and that she had been controlling it all year. I mean, she may as well have admitted to being the heir of Slytherin. They charged her with the murder of Wallaby Peppers. She’s gone away for good.”

“And Sam?” said Chiân, barely managing to whisper.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in touch with Becky and Theo pretty regularly. Becky’s written to Sam, but she never writes very much back. You know she lived with Pretoria? Yeah, I don’t know where she is. She has asked about you, though.”

“But she’s okay?”

“I mean, yes, but also…”

They looked at each other. Asher did not have to tell Chiân that Sam would be beside herself with grief. Chiân thought she might have some idea what that kind of pain felt like.

“I bet she hates me,” Chiân whispered, staring up at the ceiling.

“Chiân,” said Asher reprovingly. “When are you going to get it into your thick head that nobody hates you? Pretoria took the fall because they were all ready to kill you in that tunnel. You were doing some kind of freakish magical thing, hovering in this ball of light, and every single one of them was aiming their wands at you. It was pretty obvious you were the one who had been controlling the snake and I’m not gonna lie, whatever happened to you looked like some serious dark magic. Pretoria was saving you. Sam knows that, and I bet you anything she would have done exactly the same, just… Pretoria got there first.”

They didn’t say anything else for a bit, and Chiân stared at the ceiling, numb. Finally Asher changed the subject, starting to talk instead about exam results.

Asher left after an hour, when Chiân’s dad arrived to sit with her.

She held his hand, like they did every afternoon, but this time she only had a few questions for him.

“Hey, dad,” she said after waving goodbye to Asher and telling him to come back soon.

“Hey, Chiâny,” he watched the two Shackrels leaving the ward. “Nice family. Met them in the first couple weeks you were in here,” he said, smiling at her.

“Dad, where’s mum?” asked Chiân, frightened for the answer.

He looked at her for a long time. “She finds it very difficult to come into the magical world, Chiân. I promise it’s not you. This place – St Mungo’s, but also everyone in it – it frightens her. She loves you, kiddo.”

“She thinks I’m a monster,” said Chiân, her voice quiet. She was as sure as she had ever been that her mother was right.

Chiân had not voiced this to her father before, though she knew that he was aware what word her mother had thrown at her for years of her childhood. He did not respond. His eyes were full of tears again.

“Dad?”

He looked up at her, and the grief in his face had never been so pronounced.

“Am I?”

“Are you what, Chiâny?” he asked.

“Am I a monster?”

He stared at her for a second too long before saying “of course not, sweetheart. Of course you aren’t.” But Chiân had seen it. The briefest, slightest flicker of fear in his eyes as he looked at her.

Chiân asked the healers on the ward that evening if she could have some parchment to write a letter.

It was tiring, moving her arm enough to write, but she only needed to do it for a few lines. The night-duty healer took it down to the post owls in the lobby where it would get sent to Sam, asking her to come see her if she felt up for it.

It was the first week of August when Sam finally came, on a Saturday morning. Chiân’s dad was sat by the bed, reading a book, and looked up when Chiân cried out.

Sam had walked into the ward, clutching a small brown satchel like it was a life-ring. She looked diminished, her scar thick and blotchy across the left side of her face, her hair limp, her face thin. She gave Chiân a small smile as she approached the bed.

“Uh, I’ll go read in the café for a bit,” said her dad, nodding to a sign that indicated a tea room several floors down. He hurried off, and Sam sat in his vacated chair.

She wasn’t looking at Chiân, but staring fixedly down at the blankets of the bed where Chiân’s hand rested.

“Sam,” she said. “Asher told me what happened. I’m so, so sorry.”

It was a few seconds before Sam replied. She looked up at Chiân, who saw deep rings under her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Chiân. You don’t need to apologise.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” said Chiân, slightly louder than she’d meant to. Sam looked startled. “It’s allowed to be my fault, you know. You can still not be mad at me if you like, I’m not complaining about that, but literally none of this would have happened without me.”

After a moment of staring at her, Sam smiled a little. “Fair enough. In that case, it’s all your fault, but please don’t worry about it. Pret… Pret knew what she was doing. I would’ve done the same thing. I mean, it’s like you said – we’ve got our educations already, so it’s not like – like she’s missing much…“ her voice cracked and she looked away, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Chiân reached out a tentative hand and touched her shoulder. Sam smiled at her, her eyes a little red. “How you doing?” she asked Chiân, clearly wanting to turn to conversation away from herself.

Chiân told her the same thing the healers had been telling her regularly: she was recovering well, and there would be no lasting physical damage, though there were some much deeper magical scars that they could not repair.

Sam nodded. “That makes sense. Do they know how you survived?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chiân,” Sam rolled her eyes, looking for a second like her old self. “You literally had a staring match with a basilisk. You should have died instantly. But you didn’t. You went like, weirdly super saiyan.”

Chiân grunted. “Well I don’t really remember anything afterwards except being in absolutely insane amounts of pain,” she shuddered even thinking about it. “But I have a theory about the first part.”

“Yes?”

“Well,” said Chiân slowly. “I wasn’t in my own head. My eyes were open because I was forcing my body to run and it knew that my eyes should be open for that, but I wasn’t actually seeing with them. I was seeing through the basilisk’s eyes. When it came around the corner of the tunnel I saw myself first, and you guys hiding your faces, and I saw the Minotaur behind us die.”

Chiân had thought a great deal about this moment in the past weeks. It was a painfully huge memory for such a small space of time.

“And I think that I _should_ have died, obviously, because my eyes were open, so like my connection to the basilisk was broken, and I snapped back into my own body, except that I was so linked to it that… well, I think it came with me, but also my body was dying in that same split second, so we got caught in this really intense back and forth, which I _think_ , and this is total speculation, but I think it meant two things. The first is that I couldn’t die because while the basilisk eye thing kills you, it was only my body that had looked at it and not my actual self, or my soul or whatever.”

“And the second thing?” asked Sam, listening intently.

“Well, the second thing is that I think I must have like absorbed the snake or something, like, it got consumed in that magical explosion thing that happened. Asher said the ministry wizards made it disappear but I don’t think they would have been able to – it’s too powerful to just vanish. So maybe I like, I dunno, but I can’t think of what else happened to it, because it vanished, didn’t it?”

Sam stared at her, and Chiân stared back. There was a very strange expression on her face.

“Sam?” asked Chiân eventually.

She cleared her throat and her hands went to her bag, looking away from Chiân and rummaging for something. “You didn’t,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“You didn’t absorb it – and it didn’t vanish.”

“What?!” Chiân sat bolt upright in the bed, turning to properly face her.

“Pretoria caught it. She was so fast, I barely saw it happen. She grabbed the thing from around your neck at the exact moment you started exploding, and she caught it. And I, well… it’s here.”

And Sam lifted from her satchel a thing like an oversized purple walnut.

Chiân stared at it, her mouth open, utterly speechless.

“And that’s not all. I’ve been writing to Becky over the summer. She told me that the healers think your soul was damaged or broken or something in the moment when it should have killed you.”

Chiân nodded, looking from the scarred face to the Guivernian pod and back again.

“Well, I had a theory,” said Sam, and there was a quiet, distinct note of something like pride, or maybe triumph in her voice. “And I brought it with me today to test that theory.”

She was looking down again, a smile spreading across half of her face. Chiân did not understand.

“Firebug, look at your hands,” said Sam.

Chiân glanced down, then raised them quickly, staring. She had not noticed because the hospital ward was so bright, already full of daylight from the wide windows along the far wall. Her hands were glowing.

“Christine told you, remember? She didn’t know how to undo that spell, so it would technically be there forever.” Very deliberately Sam placed the pod in Chiân’s palm. Her hands glowed so brightly around it that it almost hurt to look at.

The two girls stared at the light for a long time.

“So… it’s – the basilisk is in here?” Chiân finally said, holding up the pod in her beacon-like hand. It was warm to the touch.

“Yes.”

“And… my soul – the other part of my soul – is in there, too.”

“You remember the old stories about You Know Who? And the horcrux thingies he made?” asked Sam, and she explained that even though Chiân had not been trying to do any such dark magic, the force of the curse that had splintered her from the basilisk must have been enough to split any soul in half.

“And You Know Who famously hid part of his soul in a snake, so it’s definitely possible,” finished Sam.

“He did?”

“Yeah, it was his pet or something. I can’t remember. But the point is that I think you’ve basically had the same thing happen to you, but unintentionally.”

“So you think my soul is actually inside the basilisk… which is currently locked in an enchanted sleep inside this thing?” said Chiân, almost laughing.

Sam smiled as well. “I’m pretty certain, actually. Especially seeing as I was right about your hands.”

They were both silent for another minute.

“How you holding up?” Chiân asked her softly.

Sam hunched into herself like she was in pain and pushed her hair out of her face. “Oh, y’know, okay.”

They talked for a little about the trial process, about Pretoria being held in the ministry of magic for a week, about how Sam had known what she was going to do from the moment Pretoria had given her the pod back in the tunnels.

“Asher told me that the tournament people were like, gonna kill me or something and that’s why she jumped up and took the blame.”

Sam nodded. “They were screaming for us to put our hands up and drop our wands, but seemed to think that you were about to unleash some kind of spell. Pret threw the pod to me and ran forwards with her hands up, yelling that you were innocent, that you were hurt, and that she was the one who had controlled the snake. She proved it by pretending that she had just made it vanish. They bound her right there and then, and then they started trying to, I don’t even know, extinguish you?”

“I don’t understand,” said Chiân, shaking her head. “I’ve spent an entire year learning how to poke around in different kinds of minds. Can’t they just read her mind and find out she’s lying? That she never killed Wallaby Peppers? Aren’t there truth potions and stuff?”

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, but Pretoria confessed. She told them the whole story like she was proud of it, because they don’t look too hard if they think they’ve already caught the person responsible. And after all, why would you be boasting about having control of a giant murderous snake and using it to kill kids and sabotage tournaments unless you were absolutely insane, right? It’s not like anyone would lie about that, surely,” she smiled ruefully.

“Have you been to see her?”

“Yeah, I go every week,” said Sam, and her eyes filled with tears again. “It’s the worst fucking place in the world.”

“How long is she in for? Like, what was the sentence?” asked Chiân.

“Thirty years.”

“Oh shit,” said Chiân, and the heaviest silence yet fell between them, Sam crying silently. Chiân stared down at her glowing hands.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna get her out.” There was total confidence in her voice. She had survived looking straight into the eyes of a basilisk and she was holding half her soul in a walnut. They could plan a prison break.

“What?” Sam looked confused.

“We’re gonna break her out,” she repeated.

Sam stared at her. “Chiân, that’s impossible-“

“No it isn’t. It’s been done before. A wizard called Sirius Black once did it without any outside help – I studied it for an essay last term. We’re more than capable of pulling it off, you know we are. We’re gonna get her out of there.”

Sam was shaking her head.

“Why not?” Chiân demanded.

“Because what then? We all go on the run? Forever? We get caught and all three of us end up in Azkaban?”

“We won’t get caught,” said Chiân, supremely confident. “And I’ve actually thought about this, ever since Asher told me she was in prison. I can hide you. Both of you. You can be safe, and comfortable, and you can stay there for as long as you like – or need – until we work out how to clear her name, or something.”

Sam’s eyebrows were raised in a look that was halfway sceptical, halfway exasperated, and entirely the expression of someone trying very hard not to hope. “And where exactly would you, a thirteen year old who cannot perform magic outside of school, hide a convicted murderer and her girlfriend?”

“Easy,” said Chiân with a grin. “The Chamber of Secrets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audio recording of this chapter can be found here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/chapter-twenty-firebug-again-audio-recording?in=kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin
> 
> The full audiobook playlist is here:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/kristin-briggs/sets/firebug-book-ii-chian-maeroris-and-the-monster-of-slytherin


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